


Waking Up

by Auxvia



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auxvia/pseuds/Auxvia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shuuhei deals with the aftermath of killing Tousen. Kensei tries to helps pick up the pieces. Angsty shit, Kensei/Shuuhei if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shuuhei was kneeling in the mess of rubble, unmoving. He was no longer sure what blood was his and what blood was his Captain's, but he could feel its warmth on his face, leaking from his stomach. His vision was clouded with red, his clothes a mess. Somebody was screaming and it took the rawness in his throat to realize it was him, wordless and filled with pain. He could feel Komamura behind him, trying to pull him up from his knees, but he fought against it, grasping for the barely-white bits of fabric that had been his captain's clothing. Komamura left him, kneeling and shaking as he twisted stained white fabric in trembling hands. A few minutes later, another pair of hands joined Komamura's this time, and he didn't fight back as he clutched the clothing to his chest. Once they pulled him to his feet, he felt a familiar lightheadedness, a sudden warmth and wetness around his center. A strangely familiar voice shouted in panic, and large hands pressed against his bleeding stomach as he finally passed out, darkness pulling him in.  
  
 ——————  
  
Shuuhei awoke with a quiet gasp, fighting past the painkillers to stay awake, his body tensed as he tried to discern where he was. White. He squinted against the brightness, his eyes casting around until they finally landed at a figure sitting on his bedside, thumbing through a copy of the Seireitei Communications.  
  
"You're awake." Kensei said gruffly, dropping the paper onto the bedside table before turning his gaze to Shuuhei.  
  
"M-Muguruma... taicho?" He slurred, recalling his arrival, remembering seeing him in battle. Kensei gave a small smile.  
  
"Not a captain anymore." He said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. Pain and shame coursed through Shuuhei as a few tears leaked from his eyes, too high to bother wiping them away, or really moving at all. Kensei's smile dropped slightly, studying Shuuhei's face.  
  
“I-Is Tousen-taicho…?” His voice cracked on the name as he forced it out, some tiny part of him hoping that his captain was somehow still alive, despite a clear, visceral memory of being covered in his blood.  
  
"Dead." Kensei said, knowing full-well that Shuuhei remembered, but understanding his need to make sure. With that single word uttered by Kensei, Shuuhei felt something inside of him crumble. He knew Tousen was a traitor, but even now he felt his voice guiding him, teaching him. Shuuhei gritted his teeth, choking back a sob as more tears ran down his face. He knew the drugs were partially to blame, that had he been sober he would've waited for such a breakdown until he was alone, or even then have repressed it that much more. Of course this was how it all ended-- his beloved, traitorous captain dead, him crying and in pain on a hospital bed in front of the man who'd inspired him to become everything he was. Kensei watched him cry impassively, no judgement on his face.   
  
"Taicho-" He gasped, unsure which one he was referring to, desperately wishing he were sober enough to sort out the thoughts screaming through his brain. One of his hands moved upwards, covering his eyes in shame as he sobbed, still trying to keep quiet, keep his embarrassment to himself. How fucked-up was it that he still loved his Captain, after all that had happened? Even after seeing him leave, even after evening upon evening of drinking with Rangiku and Kira, he still felt sick when he tried to reconcile strong, guiding Tousen with the man who’d betrayed them all. Ukitake had tried to talk to him about it once, and Hisagi had frozen, his heart pounding, eyes wide, and told him stiffly that he had work to do. He’d then promptly gone back to his office to curl up under his desk and re-orient himself, choking his breath back under control. He suspected Ukitake had known as much, and the Captain had been alarmingly gentle with him since then, periodically bringing him food or making a point to invite him to do things outside of his office. Hisagi rarely accepted, preferring to drown himself in paperwork so he didn’t have to think.  
  
Kensei was still infuriatingly difficult to read, and Shuuhei desperately wished he were somewhere else, so he could experience this pain alone. His chest felt tight, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe as he choked back tears and sobs. “Kid, you need to calm down.” Kensei said, a hint of alarm in his voice as Shuuhei gasped for air. “C’mon.” The fourth-division lieutenant who’d lead him to Shuuhei’s room had warned him— said that Shuuhei had a tendency to fight his painkillers even when he desperately needed rest, would keep himself awake in order to do work or even just so he could defend himself if he was feeling unsafe, something common enough among injured shinigami. Of course, he was in no state to defend himself right now, his face a mess of tears and snot, bits of Tosen’s blood still clinging to his hair despite the fourth division cleaning him up as best they could.  
  
  “Kid—“ Kensei reached forward to touch Shuuhei’s shoulder, to try to ground him somehow, but clearly it was the wrong move because Shuuhei became wild-eyed, jerking up in his bed to avoid the hand out of reflex. A cry tore out of him as the movement disturbed his already-sensitive stomach, turning the dull throb into a sharp pain. Kensei jumped to his feet, but before he could react there were two other people in the room, gentle but strong hands pushing Shuuhei back onto the bed as he cried and struggled, administering more sedatives. Kensei watched uselessly as Shuuhei’s eyes, wide and desperate, met his before unwillingly slipping closed, tears still leaking from them. His breathing slowed, mouth ajar from his stopped-nose. Kensei barely heard what the two fouth-division members said, just remembered being led from the barracks, stumbling out into the bright sunlight. He sat down on the porch, collecting his thoughts. He’d seen the kid on the battlefield, had barely recognized him as the child he’d once saved. He’d certainly grown, and he’d felt a certain sense of pride at learning he’d become a Lieutenant, and of the 9th Division at that. Tousen had still clearly done a number on the kid, though. He'd heard the screaming on the battlefield, and remembered the dull horror he'd felt when Komamura led him to the kid, half-catatonic and trembling, kneeling over the mess of blood and gore and clothing that used to be his Captain. He hadn't realized who'd been crying out with such rage and pain, and he felt anger in the pit of his stomach at Tousen for causing him so much pain.  
  
“Muguruma-san.” A calm, eerily-familiar voice greeted him, and Kensei looked up.  
  
 “Ah. Ukitake-taicho.” Jyuushiro looked slightly unsteady on his feet, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he greeted the former 9th-division Captain with a smile.  
  
  “It’s good to see you have returned. May I sit?” He asked, ever-polite. Kensei nodded, and Jyuushiro sat on the edge of the porch next to him. “As much as I trust the fourth division to allow me to heal, I must admit staying inside so often does more harm then good.” He said, tilting his head up to catch the rays of the sun. Kensei didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained quiet, content to sit back and watch the near-empty square.    
  
“We all suspected Hisagi-fukutaicho’s tattoo had something to do with you.” Jyuushiro said finally, breaking the silence.  
  
“I saved him from a hollow when he was a kid.” Kensei replied, irritation in his voice. “He didn’t have to go and get that tattooed on his face.”    
  
“When he gets an idea in his mind, there are few who can stop him. He once brought a motorcycle over from the human world and wrecked havoc on the Seireitei.” He gave a small smile. “Tousen threatened to take his seat for it, but I doubt he would have.” Kensei gave a small smirk at the anecdote, comforted by the thought that the broken boy in the hospital bed was more then just the condensed ball of pain that he’d seen thus far.    
  
“He’s not normally like this, is he?” Kensei asked, sure that the question was a stupid one, but wanting to reassure himself all the same. Jyuushiro was quiet for a moment, considering his thoughts before speaking.    
  
“He has changed a lot since the revelation about Tousen’s betrayal. He had a lot of trust in his Captain, and having that broken was not easy for him. I can’t imagine Tousen being killed has made that any easier. It is difficult to mourn someone who has done so much wrong.”     
  
“Shuuhei killed Tousen.” Kensei said, repeating what Komamura had told him. Jyuushiro nodded, not surprised by the bit of information.     
  
“He has a very strong sense of duty.” He said quietly. He looked over at Kensei. “Hisagi-fukutaicho is a fascinating young man, and I suspect much of that is owed to you. He needs time to heal, but I hope you will stay with us for a while longer. I believe you two have quite a lot to speak about.” Jyuushiro began to stand, gathering himself. “I’m afraid I must retire— perhaps the fourth division is right about needed rest.”     
  
“I guess they know a thing or two.” He admitted, not even beginning to believe that Jyuushiro had come outside for the fresh air.  
  
Jyuushiro gave a small smile before reminding him, “You are likely the closest thing he has now to what Tousen was for him. Please keep that in mind.” He said, before stepping back into the fourth division. Kensei could hear someone from within the walls chiding Jyuushiro for leaving, and Jyuushiro responded easily, allowing the door to close behind him. Kensei sat in silence, mulling over what Jyuushiro had told him.  
  
Maybe he would stay.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only a week later when Shuuhei was ordered to report.

Despite all the healing and bandaging, he was still ragged and raw, and he found himself listing slightly as he stood beside Komamura before the Head Captain, Kensei leaning against the back wall. He hadn’t been present for the entirety of the fight, but as his new Captain, he had to be present for the report.

Komamura, thankfully, did most of the speaking, seeming to sense Shuuhei’s hesitancy to do much other then stand there and try to look alert. The reiatsu in the room was still almost too much for him, and it took too much of his strength to stay standing. When the Captain-Commander finally addressed him directly, Shuuhei found himself thankful, figuring that it must be signaling that the end of the meeting was close. Soon he could go back to his office and sleep or work or do anything other then think about the very thoughts he'd been focusing on ignoring.

"Hisagi-fukutaicho, do you have anything to add to Komamura-taicho's story?" Yamamoto asked, his dark eyes studying Shuuhei. Shuuhei avoided the Captain-Commander's gaze, which was too dark and deep, and felt like it was staring into him somehow. He didn't meet his eyes when he addressed him, instead focusing on the blank wall slightly to his left.  
  
"No, Yamamoto-soutaicho." He replied, politely enough, leaving himself on autopilot just to get through the meeting. It was painful enough to listen to Komamura describe the details of how they'd killed Tousen-tai-- _Tousen,_ he amended to himself, but he wasn't sure if he could manage relaying the story himself. Thinking about it alone was painful, and talking about it would make it too real.

"Can you tell us any more about his resurreccion?" Yamamoto asked, and Shuuhei felt a flash of irritation. They knew Tosen was dead, wasn't that enough? Did they need to drag out the pain any longer? Did it really do anything to go over the details again and again, instead of letting it just _die_? Shuuhei bit back all of those thoughts, although he'd paused long enough that Komamura had shot him a confused look.

"Tosen--" Shuuhei stumbled over the name, the pain at saying it evident in his voice. He forcibly pulled himself together, trying to prevent the freefall of emotions that would no doubt end embarrassingly. He thought he saw a flash of sympathy cross Sasakibe's face, but he ignored it. "He turned into this _thing,_ like an insect but the head- the eyes-" He took in another ragged breath, steadying himself, unsure if he could even make it through the next sentence, much less the rest of the meeting. "He could see. And he had a hole right here." Shuuhei placed a trembling hand on his abdomen. "He shot Komamura-taicho's bankai. And I-" He steeled himself, his voice shaking despite being as even as he could make it. "I stabbed him. Through his head." He closed his eyes briefly, the memory so ingrained and familiar that he could practically feel the warm spurt of blood on his hands after having relived it night after night ever since he'd murdered his Captain. "When I released Kazeshini-" He cut himself off, opening and closing his mouth a couple times, his eyes wide, staring at the floor in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to describe the act of stabbing his Captain, the rush of power of releasing his shikai combined with the sick sensation of feeling it driven through brain and muscle and bone. The memory was visceral and dark and tinged with more pain then he could vocalize, and somehow he couldn't even say that he was gone, that he was dead. He could feel the memories dragging him under, his vision tunneling as he fought the sensation that he was drowning.

Kensei had known the moment Shuuhei opened his mouth that it wasn't going to end well. He felt a rash of anger towards Yamamoto, that he'd drag a clearly fucked-up kid into a meeting about something that was literally the subject of his nightmares. Kensei had heard Shuuhei crying out in his sleep through the thin walls, had seen him jerk awake at his desk more then enough, eyes wild and terrified before being schooled into a careful, expressionless mask. He resisted the temptation to step forward and shake Shuuhei out of whatever waking nightmare he was currently caught in, instead nodding when Komamura quietly suggested that they end the meeting early. They all had work to do, he offered, although it was clear to everyone in the room (except perhaps Shuuhei) that they was doing it for the Lieutenant's mental health.  
  
Shuuhei knew Komamura was saying something, but his eyes were still locked on the floor in front of him, seeing something very different then the white stone. He could feel Tosen's blood dripping from his fingertips, his hair. He was supposed to be better then this. He'd done this countless times, meeting after meeting with the Captain-Commander, coldly describing deaths of shinigami and enemies alike. Yet this one in particular, this sick amalgamation of the two was too horrifyingly familiar and painful to touch. Somebody was saying his name, and he realized with sweet relief that it was Kensei, which meant that the meeting was _over._ Shuuhei didn't have the energy to dwell on the fact that Kensei had seen him like this much too often, leaving that particular shame for when he was in a more conscious state of mind. Kensei and Komamura were talking, one of Kensei's hands gripping Shuuhei's bicep, guiding him out of the First Division barracks. The grip was none too gentle, but it was just what Shuuhei needed to ground him. He slowly coming back to reality as they stepped out of the barracks. They only made it a few feet before Shuuhei doubled over and vomited, expelling what little was in his stomach onto the stone. Kensei released Shuuhei's arm and took a step back, fighting his reflex to do _something_ to help the shaking, sick kid. Komamura paused as well, and Kensei found himself wishing he weren't there so he could do something, but he knew better then to offer sympathy in front of another Captain. It would just make Shuuhei look weak.  
  
"You with us?" Kensei asked when Shuuhei returned to being upright, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, keeping his face forcibly blank. He nodded, not looking at either of the Captains. He could feel himself shaking, knew that they could see it too. Losing it in a meeting was shameful enough, but vomiting in front of two of the most respected people in his life was just adding insult to injury. "Go back to the barracks." Kensei ordered. "Clean yourself up. I'll deal with you later." Despite how cold he seemed, it was the most mercy he could show Shuuhei right now without shaming him in front of another Captain. Besides, he clearly needed to be alone. Kensei had no illusions about how mentally sound his Lieutenant was, but he wasn't going to mention it in front of someone Shuuhei clearly respected. Shuuhei flashstepped away, stealing a cursory glance at his Captain before disappearing in a blur. Dread coursed through him as he headed back to the 9th division barracks, wondering what 'deal with you' meant.  
  
"Mugaruma-taicho..." Komamura began. Kensei shot him a sharp look as though daring him to finish the sentence. Komamura recognized the look well enough, and found himself somewhat relieved. The matching tattoos suggested a bond to a certain degree, but even that couldn't guarantee that Kensei wouldn't unseat Shuuhei. He had to admit he was worried about it. While some Captains would support their Lieutenants no matter what, there were others that would drop them at the slightest sign of weakness. If just the suggestion of speakly poorly on Kensei's Lieutenants behalf elicited such a reaction, perhaps he was in good hands after all. Komamura held his gaze for a moment before giving a small nod, a slight smile on his face before turning away from him, ambling towards his barracks. He heard the soft noise of Kensei flashstepping, no doubt heading to check on his Lieutenant.

\-----------------------

Kensei found Shuuhei curled into a ball under his desk, shaking and trembling as though coming down from a high. He reached under the polished wood and grabbed the kid by his bicep, unceremoniously pulling him out and throwing him bodily against the wall. Shuuhei hit the wall with a quiet 'oof' as the air was pushed from his lungs. He looked up at Kensei and to his relief, his eyes were red but dry. He wasn't sure how much of Shuuhei crying he could handle.

"The hell was that, huh?" He demanded, rounding on the smaller man. Shuuhei shrunk back, as though expecting to be hit. Kensei felt his stomach rebel, purposely ignoring the reaction.

"I don't know." Shuuhei pushed a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes looking everywhere but at Kensei. That wouldn't do. Kensei grabbed him by his collar.

"Hey, look at me." He demanded. Shuuhei's eye's darted up to his before going back to the wall behind him, and Kensei shook him, becoming more frustrated. "Look at me." He growled. Shuuhei's eyes finally met his, holding his gaze. "What happened back there?" He asked again.

"I don't know!" Shuuhei said, his voice rising in pitch and volume, bordering on hysterical. He could feel himself losing it. He was so used to being in control, to being stoic and able to distance himself from things. He hadn't crumbled like this since Aoga and Kanisawa, and even then he could've attributed that to a lack of experience or the fact that he was still only a student. Now he was a Lieutenant, and was expected to not only represent himself but his entire division, something he'd utterly failed at. He shook his head, frustration and resignation leaking into his voice. "If you're going to unseat me, just do it."

Kensei blinked. Shuuhei had gone from anger to giving up so quickly. "Hell no." He said, tightening his grip. "Hey, kid, listen to me, 'cuz I'm only gonna say this once." He said firmly, giving Shuuhei another little shake, drawing his eyes back up towards him. "I don't leave people behind. So, yeah, you killed your Captain. That fucking sucks. But just because you need a little time to get it together doesn't mean I don't expect you to work your ass off for me. And if you try to resign, I'm not gonna let you. Because I've seen you fight, and I'd be dumb as shit to turn you away." Shuuhei looked unsure. "You're strong, kid. You're gonna be fine." He finally released his grip on Shuuhei's collar, and ruffled his hair which earned him a deadpan look.

"If you're going to be my Captain, you'll need to stop calling me 'kid.'" Shuuhei said dully, eyeing him.

"We'll negotiate that part." Kensei said with a somewhat-forced snort of laughter. He turned to leave, and paused in the doorway. "You need anything, you let me know." He said, meaning every word. Shuuhei studied him for a moment, making sure he was serious before giving him a hesitant nod, knowing he'd never take him up on the offer. A grin spread across Kensei's face. "That's it." He said, turning on his heel and leaving.

Shuuhei returned to stacking papers, the repetitive motion lulling him back to calmness, forcing himself to focus on the papers instead of the darkness creeping at the edges of his mind. He briefly felt like he was going to be sick, but he swallowed past it and continued working.

Outside, Kensei sat down on the porch of the 9th division. He wondered what Tosen had done to Shuuhei, to make him half-crazy with grief and confusion, but pushed past those thoughts. There was no use dwelling on them-- all there was left to do was to pick up the pieces.


	3. Chapter 3

Shuuhei was a model Lieutenant after that. He got his work done, trained with the division in his off-time, and even cleaned the office at one point, leaving his desk gleaming before once again burying it under a mountain of paperwork. Kensei could tell he was trying to work himself to exhaustion, but made no comment. Sooner or later, Shuuhei would figure it out for himself.

It ended up being sooner. It was only two weeks later when Shuuhei turned up at the barracks late one night, his reiatsu dark and wild. Kensei felt it as soon as Shuuhei stepped inside, and tensed unconsciously, preparing for whatever he was about to see. He glanced up as his office door slid open, and eyed Shuuhei. He looked gaunt (although that had been par for the course lately), and his hair was sticking up in a way that would be funny if it weren’t for the hollow look on his face. Kensei almost wished Shuuhei were doped up on meds and then crying again— anything would be better then this shadow of a person.

“Taicho.” His voice was flat, expressionless.

“What? I’m busy.” Kensei snapped, hiding his concern under the usual brash exterior. He returned to shuffling papers, trying to make this conversation as quick as possible.

  “Train with me.” This made Kensei pause, looking up to see if he was serious. He hadn’t fought anyone in the division yet— while he’d occasionally turn up at sparring matches, yelling out pointers, he hadn’t wanted to unnecessarily injure someone. Nobody was quite up to his level. However…

His eyes dropped to Shuuhei’s zanpaktou. He knew from the other Captains that he rarely released it, and knew first hand that he hadn’t used it since executing Tosen. “Alright.” He said, wondering if maybe he could get the kid to use his shikai. Shuuhei nodded, wordlessly turning to head out to the training grounds. Kensei grabbed his own sword from where it was leaning against his desk, following his Lieutenant. The night was dark and balmy. Crickets chirped quietly from the trees, the only other noise being Shuuhei’s footsteps through the grass.

Shuuhei walked a ways into the training ground before turning around. He wasn’t in any particularly defensible position— his zanpaktou hung uselessly from his hand, and Kensei ignored the bad feeling he was beginning to get about this. “You ready?” He called across the field. Shuuhei nodded.

Kensei flew at him, his unreleased blade gripped tightly in his hand. Shuuhei parried the blows, moving with a sure, deadly grace. They fought quietly— no shouting or joking, just the ringing of blade meeting blade. When Kensei landed the first blow Shuuhei didn’t even react, just continued to fight mercilessly, taking every opportunity to land a blow, leaving himself open and exposed.

“You’ve got a hell of a zanpaktou.” Kensei offered, barely winded. Shuuhei’s face was red from strain, and he ignored what Kensei said, jumping at him again. “You gonna use it?” He asked, prodding at him. Again, Shuuhei didn’t respond, focusing on the fighting. He was slowing down, Kensei noticed. Kensei landed a few more blows, and it was then that he realized Shuuhei wanted to get hit. Sure, he wasn’t dropping his blade or anything, but he certainly wasn’t taking any precautions to protect himself.

Kensei fell back to the defensive, parrying all of Shuuhei’s blows, but not landing any of his own. He could sense his Lieutenant’s frustration growing, his attacks getting more aggressive and desperate. Shuuhei was panting from exertion, struggling to keep up with his Captain. “Fight me!” He finally demanded, desperation edging into his voice.

“I said I’d fight you, kid. I’m not gonna punish you.” Kensei growled back. Bruises were blooming on Shuuhei’s arms, and a few slim cuts decorated the spots where Kensei had landed blows with his sword. Shuuhei’s attacks were getting sluggish now, burning through his adrenaline, lack of sleep adding to his strain. In the end, it only took a careful hit to the back of his legs with the flat of Kensei’s blade to knock him to his knees. Shuuhei’s dropped his zanpaktou and his hands met the grass, staring down at the dark ground while he gasped for air.

“That why you wanted to train with me?” Kensei demanded. “Huh? You know all the other guys aren’t a match for you, so you go after the only one in your division you know can kick your ass?” He kicked lightly at Shuuhei’s ribs, feeling a sick satisfaction as he gave a choked cough.  

“Keep this up and you’re gonna lose your seat.” He said grimly, looking down at his Lieutenant. “I want to keep you, but if you keep actin’ like this they’re gonna force me.” Shuuhei stayed silent. “Or they’re gonna send you to the fourth division for counseling, and hell if you ever get reseated after that.” The dark, desperate taste to Shuuhei’s reiatsu was gone now, leaving such an intense cloud of despair around him that Kensei could feel it from where he stood. He shivered. “The hell am I supposed to do with you, huh?” He asked, running a rough hand through his silver hair. “What do you want from me?” He demanded, not even expecting an answer. He shook his head.

“Get up.” He ordered. Shuuhei took a moment to gather himself before stumbling to his feet, grabbing his zanpaktou. He didn’t seem particularly steady, but at least with orders he knew what to do. There was no thinking involved, just action. Kensei wasn’t particularly worried— he’d seen the kid get up after being stabbed in the stomach. He could handle some bruises.

“C’mon.” Kensei strode towards the barracks without looking behind him to check that Shuuhei was following him. The darkness rolling off him was strong enough that Kensei felt a deep, hollow ache in his stomach. Even without it, he wouldn't need to look. He knew if there was one thing he could always expect from the kid, it was unwavering obedience. It made him feel a little sick, how little Shuuhei questioned anything he said. _Tosen_ , Kensei took a moment to think poisonously. 

Kensei silently led Shuuhei to his room in the barracks. “Go to sleep.” He ordered, glaring at his Lieutenant, who didn’t even flinch in the face of his Captain’s anger, dull eyes holding his. “None of this staying awake all the time shit. You’re killing yourself, and it’s not my fucking job to save your life.” (The _again_ was silent, hanging on to his last word.) Shuuhei just nodded wordlessly, his hair hanging in his eyes, slightly curled in on himself. “Shit-“ Kensei growled before grabbing Shuuhei, pulling him into a rough approximation of a hug. Shuuhei tensed, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for a blow to the head or a slap. When none came, he relaxed slightly, sagging into the large frame of his Captain. His hands, caught between them, fisted at the front of Kensei’s haori, and a low, ragged breath came shuddering out of him.

“Fuck.” Kensei breathed, holding him for a moment longer before reluctantly releasing the kid. Shuuhei looked exhausted, and rubbed at his eyes in a way that was so painfully childlike Kensei had to look away. “Go to bed.” Kensei grumbled, turning around to head to his own room. Shuuhei stumbled into his room. He shut the door behind him, getting undressed in the dark and falling into bed, idly hoping he wouldn't wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

Rangiku sighed, slumped back in her chair with a bottle of sake balanced on her stomach. Kira was laying his head on the table, pillowed in his arms. The shuttered windows were flung open, and she watched idly as a few recruits walked by, chattering and laughing.  
  
“Where is he?” She complained, taking another swig of the bottle. Izuru made a noncommittal grumbling noise.  
  
“Maybe he’s given up drinking.” He suggested idly, tracing a pattern on the table with a slim finger. Rangiku rolled her eyes.  
  
“He’s boring, is what he is.” She forced herself up with a grunt. “C’mon.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We’re gonna go find him. Maybe that new Captain of his won’t let him out.”  
  
“I seriously doubt it.” Izuru said soberly. “If anything, he hates Shuuhei.”  
  
“Hates Shuuhei?!” Rangiku cried, outraged on her friends behalf. “How could anyone hate Shuuhei?”  
  
 Izuru just shrugged. “Well, you’ve seen Shuuhei. He never smiles anymore. Doesn’t spend time with anyone. He’s always either training or working, but he makes himself impossible to find.” He ticked them off on his fingers.  
  
“And that makes you think Mugaruma-taicho hates Shuuhei?” She asked.  
  
“Yeah, well, if your childhood hero treated you like shit, wouldn’t you be depressed too?”  
  
Rangiku sighed. “Tosen-ta— Tosen just died.” She took another drink. “He's probably trying to get over that.”  
  
“Tosen didn’t treat him well either.” Izuru said darkly. Rangiku shot him a sharp look.  
  
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t love him.” Rangiku said quietly, and they had no illusions about who they were actually talking about. They both took a drink in silence. “Come on.” She announced, forcing herself back to her usual, bubbly personality. “Let’s go find Shuuhei.”  
  
 Izuru heaved a sigh, but nodded, grabbing his sake for the road.  
  
————————————————————————————————————  
  
Shuuhei was studiously bent over his desk in the 9th Division, squinting at a piece of paperwork with tired eyes. It had been a week since Kensei had soundly defeated him without so much as releasing his blade. He still didn’t know what he’d been looking for, had just answered the call of a desperate burning in him to feel something, _anything_. All the fight had done for him was left him feeling drained and empty.  
  
He visited Tosen’s grave a few nights after the fight, desperately searching for an answer, redemption, even forgiveness. Instead, he found himself screaming, raging at his dead Captain for leaving him like this, broken and dead in every way that counted.  
  
“Why didn’t you take me with you?” His voice had hitched, and he’d fallen to his knees, pressing his forehead into the damp earth, his hands curling around the grass. It was terrifyingly similar to the position Kensei had put him in a few nights before, and he stayed there for a while, quietly breathing.  
  
Ukitake had tried seeking him out again, and Shuuhei was beginning to wonder if Kensei had approached the other Captain about him. It certainly wasn’t his style, but Shuuhei wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Jyuushiro had sat down with him on a bench the other day, asked him if he was feeling okay in such a gentle voice that Shuuhei wanted to break right then and there, press himself into his haori and tell him all about his pain, about how he’d been left behind by one of the only people that mattered.  
  
He had nodded stiffly instead, not trusting himself to open his mouth. Ukitake looked doubtful, but smiled in a forgiving way, and, in his forever-gentle tone, told him if he ever needed anything he knew where to find him. Shuuhei had nodded again, and Ukitake had excused himself. Shuuhei curled in on himself, his face in his hands. Ukitake had seen it when he looked back, but knew better then to comment on it. If Shuuhei found it in himself to want to talk, he could come.  
  
Shuuhei jumped at the sound of a knock on the office door, and Kensei had glanced over Shuuhei from his own desk before speaking.  
  
“C’mon in.” Kensei answered lazily, putting a finishing mark on his paperwork. To Shuuhei’s horror, a clearly-drunk Rangiku stepped in, Izuru standing reluctantly behind her. She had to fight to hide her shock at Shuuhei’s appearance. She hadn’t seen him up-close since the battle, but the difference in just three weeks was astounding. He’d gotten much thinner ( _too thin_ ), and she could swear there were grey hairs coming in. She pushed past it, focusing on the reason why they’d come.  
  
“You!” She cried, pointing an accusing finger at Shuuhei. “Where have you been?!” She demanded.  
  
Shuuhei stiffened, his eyes darting over to Kensei. Kensei was leaning back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face as he also waited for an answer.  
  
“I’ve been busy.” Shuuhei said quietly, avoiding both of their gazes.  
  
“That’s no excuse to neglect your friends.” She said dramatically. Shuuhei could tell she was being facetious, but underneath there was real hurt. He ignored it.  
  
“I have work to do.”  
  
“No you don’t.” Kensei cut in quickly, and Shuuhei cringed internally before sending his Captain an accusing look. Kensei shrugged.  
  
“Get out of here. Drink a little bit. Hell, drink a lot. You need a break.” Kensei said. Shuuhei looked briefly like he would protest, and Kensei shook his head. “That’s an order.”  
  
Shuuhei nodded numbly, capping his ink, stacking his papers. Kensei watched his movements carefully, not noticing the way Rangiku was eyeing the Captain. When Shuuhei moved to file the papers, Kensei shook his head. “I’ll get it. Go.”  
  
Shuuhei sighed, dropping the papers back on the desk. “Have a good evening, Muguruma-taicho.” He said quietly, heading out the doorway. The worried look on Rangikus face was apparent as she chewed her lip, and Kensei was glad he wasn’t the only one noticing how off something was.  
  
Kensei returned to his paperwork. “Keep an eye on him.” He chided as Rangiku turned to leave.  
  
“Ah- yes, Muguruma-taicho.” She said, giving him a quick bow in a belated sense of propriety before she tailed her friends out of the office, closing the door behind her. Kensei shook his head, a slight smile on his face before standing to file Shuuhei’s paperwork.  
  
———————————————————————————————————  
  
Shuuhei walked a few feet ahead of his friends, not turning to so much as say anything. Rangiku exchanged a look with Izuru and shrugged, grabbing his sake before skipping forward to grasp Shuuhei’s wrist.  
  
“C’mon.” She said, all false cheeriness as she dragged him towards the 10th Division break room that they’d taken to drinking in. She pressed the bottle into Shuuhei’s hand, but he didn’t make a move to drink it, just grasped it and held it tightly to himself. Rangiku glanced behind her at Izuru again.  
  
When Rangiku finally forced Shuuhei down into a chair, she grabbed her own bottle and tossed a replacement to Izuru, who caught it despite his own fairly-inebriated state. “Just like old times, huh?” She said, plopping down in her chair. Izuru and Shuuhei both shot her the same, dull look and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  
  
“So how’s Muguruma-taicho?” She asked before taking another drink. Shuuhei didn’t say anything, just uncorked his bottle and took a long, slow swig. He licked his lips, thinking.  
  
“He’s alright.” He said finally.  
  
“Alright? Just alright? This is your childhood hero we’re talking about. C’mon, there’s gotta be more to it then that.”  
  
“He’s good with the squad. Finishes his paperwork on time.” He idly fiddled with the cork to his bottle. “Kuna-san’s annoying, but it can’t be helped.”  
  
Rangiku rolled her eyes. “Is he good to you?”  
  
Shuuhei stiffened, understanding why she was asking the question. “Yeah.” He said quietly, taking another long drink. “Yeah, he— he does his best.”  
  
“Have you been alright, Shuuhei?” She prodded gently, leaning forward. There was genuine concern on her face, and Shuuhei looked down at his drink.  
  
“I’m fine.” He said sharply. “'Zuru, how’s your new Captain?” He asked, quickly redirecting the conversation. Rangiku looked unsatisfied, but didn’t say anything.  
  
“Oh, you know.” Izuru said drunkenly from where his head was buried in his arms. “Super weird.” He lifted his head. “Where’ve you been?” He asked, too drunk for it to come out quite as accusatory as he intended. Like Rangiku, the hurt beneath his words was clear.  
  
Shuuhei looked down at his bottle, shame coursing through him. In all his own pain, he’d neglected his friends. They’d lost someone too, were probably still both reeling from the death of Gin. “Sorry.” He said. “Sorry, I-“ He inhaled sharply. “I haven’t been doing well.” He admitted, like it wasn’t obvious.  
  
“No shit.” Izuru grumbled, lifting his head to take another drink. Rangiku snorted humorlessly.  
  
“I killed Tosen.” He bit out, the words tumbling out of him before he could think about it. Everyone in the Seireitei knew Tosen was dead— knew he and Komamura had teamed up to take him down. However, the details of the battle remained ambiguous to everyone that hadn’t been directly involved or reported to. Both he and Komamura were very private people, and nobody was brave enough to approach them and ask. People simply assumed Komamura had dealt the killing blow-- after all, it would take a hell of a Lieutenant to kill a Captain.  
  
“Oh, Shuuhei.” Rangiku lamented quietly. Even Izuru looked up at the admission, shock coloring his face. Shuuhei just nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat and taking another long draught of his drink.  
  
“Stabbed him right in the head.” He laughed hollowly. “I couldn’t even talk about it at the meeting. Komamura-taicho had to finish up for me. I think they’re going to take my seat.” He took another long drink, reveling in the shocked silence of his friends. They wanted him to talk about it? Good, fine. He fucking would.  
  
“Muguruma-taicho keeps looking at me like I’m going to lose it any second. I don’t even blame him.” He gave another sick, wet laugh. “They all think I’m crazy.” His breath shuddered as he took a gasp of air. “Hell, I think I’m crazy.” He sagged in his chair, one of his hands lifting up to cover his eyes as he tried to calm himself back down.  
  
“Shuuhei-“ Rangiku was reaching a hand out to him, and suddenly he couldn’t take any more of her gentle understanding. He jerked out of her reach, standing up so forcefully that his chair knocked over behind him with a loud clatter.  
  
“Don’t touch me.” He gasped, and Rangiku froze.  
  
“Shuuhei.” She breathed. “Shuuhei, it’s just us.” Izuru was up now too, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Shuuhei noticed it, confused. Was there danger? He glanced down, and his heart stopped as he suddenly noticed his own zanpaktou was unsheathed, gripped by his two trembling hands. When had he done that?  
  
“Holy shit.” He breathed. “Holy shit, I really am losing it.” He dropped his sword with a clatter, stumbling backwards into the corner of the room. Rangiku came at him immediately, pulling him into her despite his halfhearted resistance. She cradled him as tightly as she could, and he pressed his face into her neck, curling into her embrace, taking a few hitching breaths as he sank into the arms of his friend.  
  
—————————————————————————————————  
  
“The Captain-Commander wants a meeting tonight.” Kensei said quietly. Shuuhei was in his room, curled up on his bed in the dark. He was wearing only his white shitagi, the rest of his uniform discarded on the floor. He could tell by the light flooding in through the open door that it was late afternoon. Shuuhei didn’t respond.  
  
“You don’t even give a damn, do you?” Kensei closed the door behind him, walking in to sit on the edge of Shuuhei’s bed. The room was stuffy and warm, and Shuuhei closed his eyes again, wishing everything would go away. “Fuck, kid, I wish I knew what to do. But the way you’ve been stumbling around—“ He shook his head. “People notice shit. Your men are afraid of you. Yeah, you get your work done, but the Captain-Commander is saying you’re not fit to lead a division right now.” He paused, studying Shuuhei. “And honestly, I have to agree.”  
  
Shuuhei felt something snap inside him at that, and curled in on himself more, drawing his arms up to cover his face. Kensei reached forward, resting a hand on Shuuhei’s ankle in an attempt at comfort. “Tell me what to do.” He said. “Tell me what to do to make this right.”  
  
“Kill me.” Shuuhei whispered, the mantra he’d been repeating in his head over and over for weeks finally slipping out of his mouth. Kensei’s hand tightened before he withdrew.  
  
“What did he to do you, kid?” Kensei asked quietly, more to himself then to Shuuhei. “What did Tosen do to you that’s got you all twisted up?”  
  
“I loved him.” He breathed. “I loved him, and I killed him.” What he’d felt for Tosen— it was impossible to describe. They hadn’t been lovers, Shuuhei wasn’t even sure if that was something he’d wanted. ( _although if Tosen had asked, he would have. He couldn’t say no to his Captain._ ) It was a twisted hero-worship, centered around the man who’d raised him and destroyed him day-by-day, until he wasn’t even his own person anymore, just an extension of his Captain. He was taught to obey blindly, to accept and even crave Tosen’s punishments when he failed. ( _And wasn't killing his Captain his greatest failure?_ ) At least with Tosen’s betrayal there was comfort in knowing he was alive, that he would be proud of how Shuuhei was running the division. ( _And the sick hope that he would return_.)  
  
“You’re not his anymore.” Kensei said, his heart breaking for the kid on the bed.  
  
“Aren’t I?” Shuuhei asked dully. Kensei’s mark on Shuuhei was physical, external, but everything on the inside of Shuuhei had been scarred up and twisted by Tosen, too knotted up to fix. Kensei didn’t respond.  
  
“Get up.” He said, reaching over and bodily dragging Shuuhei to his feet. He stumbled slightly, but managed to stay upright as Kensei picked up his uniform, dusting it off. “C’mon.” He murmured, helping Shuuhei step into his hakama. Silent tears were dripping down Shuuhei's face, but Kensei just felt resigned. He knew there was no way they would let him keep Shuuhei. He’d fight tooth and nail if it would matter, but it was obvious to anybody just by way of looking at him that there was something terribly wrong. Kensei wrapped the kosode around him, helping him guide his arms through the sleeves. Finally, he picked up the white sash, carefully arranging the kosode before wrapping it around Shuuhei and deftly tying it off.  
  
“He’s not gonna let me keep my seat.” Shuuhei said raggedly. “I’m so sorry, taicho.”  
  
“I know, kid.”  
  
“Don’t make me.” He begged quietly. “Please.”  
  
“I’ll be there too.” He offered, as though it were a comfort.  
  
“Taicho-“  
  
“It’ll be good for you. You’ll take some time off, figure some stuff out. And when you’re ready, I’ll give your seat back.” Kensei wiped away a tear that was trailing down Shuuhei’s cheek. “C’mon. You should eat something before.”  
  
Shuuhei nodded, resigned. He trailed after his Captain’s broad back, squinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.


	5. Chapter 5

Shuuhei expected the stripping of his rank to be painful.  
  
He hadn’t expected it to be agony.

  It was a sick mirror to the last meeting he’d had with the Captain-Commander, although this time it was Kensei that stood at his side instead of Komamura. Yamamoto started off listing all the reasons he’d become an officer in the first place, and it only made the entire thing more painful. Decades of service to the Soul Society. Feat after feat of bravery in and out of combat. Kensei’s heart swelled with pride as Yamamoto mentioned particularly daring missions. Tosen’s murder was last on the list, and Shuuhei twitched at the mention.  
  
“However, in light of recent events, I feel I am forced to remove you of your rank.” The old man said, his cold gaze trained on Shuuhei. “You have made several comments in support of Tosen that could be construed as treason. You have shown a distinct inability to manage not only your division, but yourself.” Shuuhei visibly flinched at that, and even Kensei felt the sting of the comment.  
  
“You will become a normal, unseated member of the 9th division, and will perform the tasks that come with that position. You will no longer receive the benefits that come with the position of Lieutenant. It will be up to your Captain to find a replacement. If it becomes necessary, you will be moved to another division.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary.” Kensei spoke out. “Hisagi-fukutaicho has been an excellent subordinate, and I would be happy to have him in my division in any rank.”  
  
Yamamoto’s eyes drifted over to Kensei. “…Very well.” He noted, studying Kensei for a moment before returning his gaze to Shuuhei. “I hope you take your time away from your position to reflect on your recent behaviors. You are welcome to reapply for your seat in the future, but it will require heavy recommendations and careful consideration on behalf of myself and your Captain, especially in light of the past few weeks.” Yamamoto looked at Kensei. “Do you have anything to add, Muguruma-taicho?”  
  
Kensei shook his head.  
  
“You are dismissed, Muguruma-taicho, Hisagi-san.” Shuuhei felt something inside him crumble at the distinct lack of his rank at the end of his name.  
  
“Thank you, Yamamoto-soutaicho.” Shuuhei said hollowly. Kensei nodded in agreement.  
  
“C’mon, kid.” He said quietly, making sure Shuuhei was falling into step before heading out of the hall.  
  
Kensei walked silently back to the 9th division with him. He took Shuuhei into their- _Kenseis_ office, sat him down in his ( _no longer his_ ) desk chair, and slid a bottle of sake across the desk. Shuuhei took it and drained half of it in less then a minute.  
  
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Kensei said, all business, dark eyes watching as Shuuhei put down the bottle and began the task of cleaning out his desk. “We’re going to need to move you out of your room soon. Mashiro’s going to take over for you—she’s an ass, but it’ll make it easier to give you your rank back.” Shuuhei took some comfort in knowing that Kensei fully planned to return his rank. “You’re gonna keep your head low, try and stay out of trouble. Anything you do now is gonna be used against you when you try to get your seat back.”  
  
 Shuuhei nodded blankly, carefully stacking up papers so Kuna could fill the desk as she wished. It was good to have something to do, keep his mind busy so he didn’t have to think about what just happened. Tosen would be ashamed of him. _Tosen would be ashamed of him._ The thought hit him harder then the loss of his rank, harder then the Captain-Commander telling him that he couldn’t take care of himself.  
  
Shuuhei blacked out briefly, his hands gripping the edge of his desk tightly as he shook.  
  
“You alright?” Kensei asked from where he was sitting at his own desk.  
  
“Tosen-taicho would be ashamed of me.” He gasped in a horrified whisper. Kensei didn’t even comment on the slip-up.  
  
“Why does it matter?” Kensei asked idly. Shuuhei jerked up to look at Kensei, his eyes wide with horror.  
  
“He would- he would-“ He was shaking. “Can we train?” He asked desperately.  
  
“Hell no. I’m not letting you use that as a way to punish yourself.” Kensei narrowed his eyes. “Is that what this is, huh? You’ve been punishing yourself because you think you failed Tosen?”  
  
“I did. I _killed_ him, taicho.”  
  
“No. You saved him from what he had become, kid. Killing him was merciful.”  
  
“He was my _Captain_!” Shuuhei gasped, one hand reaching up and gripping his hair so tightly that Kensei was already out of his seat at the slightest sign of self-harm.  
  
“No he wasn’t.” Kensei snarled. He grabbed Shuuhei by his kosode and shoved him against the wall. Shuuhei shrank back slightly, as though expecting to be hit. Kensei’s stomach rebelled when he noticed the action, began putting it all together. “He stopped being your Captain when he left. I know how much he meant to you, kid, but you need to let him go. He taught you what he could, but now he’s gone and you need to _move the fuck on_. It’s not your job to live according to his values, and it sure as shit isn’t your job to punish yourself according to them.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Let me tell you how this looks from where I’m standing. This looks like Tosen treated you like shit, and now he’s dead and you have to face the fact that what he did wasn’t okay.”  
  
“Taicho-“  
  
“Don’t fucking interrupt me, kid. So now you’re losing your goddamn mind because you’ve managed to convince yourself that the way he treated you was right, and if you don’t follow his fucked-up sense of justice, punishing yourself for every little thing, it’s admitting that _what he did to you was wrong_.”  
  
“Shut up!” Shuuhei shoved him away, breathing heavily.  
  
“Fucking listen—“ Kensei made a move towards him again, and Shuuhei jerked away.  
  
“Don’t touch me.” He growled, although the panic in his eyes was clear.  
  
“Fuck, kid, I’m not gonna hit you.” Kensei said, but took a slow step back, like Shuuhei was a wounded animal. Shuuhei nodded, but his eyes still wouldn’t leave Kensei. The air in the room was heavy with tension.  
  
Kensei retreated to his desk, sitting back down in his office chair.  
  
Shuuhei finished cleaning out his desk silently, his posture guarded. There were few personal effects in his desk beyond a couple photographs that looked like they’d seen better days. Shuuhei looked down at them, then slipped them into his pocket.  
  
“Go to bed.” Kensei said quietly.  
  
“I’m not-“  
  
“That’s an order.” He said, daring Shuuhei to challenge him. He just stiffened, giving Kensei a half-bow.  
  
“Have a good evening, Muguruma-taicho.” He said, retreating behind the familiar mask of formality before leaving the room as fast as he could without flashstep.  
  
Kensei sighed, resting his face in his palms. He didn’t even know why he was this invested in the kid— at this point most Captains would’ve dropped someone so unstable rather then spend their time dealing with it. He remembered something Mashiro had said after saving the kid, something about being responsible for a person after saving their life. At the time he’d dismissed it as just another stupid Mashiro thing, but it was certainly coming back to haunt him. He knew, he _knew_ Shuuhei was capable of great things, capable of terrifying power and at the same time a deep compassion for the people underneath him. It just so happened that Kensei had shown up just in time for the rough patch.  
  
He felt guilty. It wasn’t his fault, but he found himself desperately wishing that he’d been able to rescue Hisagi when he was younger, saved him from how he’d clearly suffered under Tosen. If he’d been stronger, if he’d been able to fight—  
  
It was a tired line of thinking, wondering how he could have avoided hollowfication. He still wandered back to it periodically and tortured himself over possibilities. Kensei sighed, silently cursing Tosen. He’d always been tough, always had a clear idea of what was justice and what was fair. He never imagined that it would extend to inflicting such damage on his subordinates. (then again, he also never imagined it would lead him to betray the Soul Society.) He had no proof, of course. Just his own observations, the way Shuuhei flinched, his combined fear and love for his ex-Captain. His determination to be punished when he failed.  
  
Kensei glanced over at Shuuhei’s now-empty desk, completely cleared of paperwork and pens. Its gleaming surface seemed to mock him, and Kensei had no doubt the desk would remain equally empty once it became Mashiro's. Making up for Shuuhei's absence was going to be difficult.  
  
He sighed, rubbed a hand over the stubble coming in on his jaw. Across the barracks, Shuuhei slipped into bed, pulling covers over his head and willing his mind to quiet down so he could fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Oddly enough, the time away seemed to do Shuuhei some good. The noticeable dark spots under his eyes were by no means gone, but they faded enough to give Kensei some hope. Kensei was still bitter about it— Shuuhei had done an excellent job at keeping his work as minimal as possible. The paperwork that did find it’s way to his desk was marked for his signature so he didn’t even have to read through it. However, now stacks reached his desk uninhibited, and he sorted through it with increasing frustration. Mashiro was incredibly unhelpful, occasionally signing something before putting her feet up on her (Shuuhei’s) desk and complaining until Kensei let her leave. Kensei suspected that Shuuhei still snuck in periodically to straighten up, because he was pretty sure it wasn’t Mashiro neatly arranging the stacks on his desk by subject.  
  
Shuuhei was spending most of his time off thinking, although Kensei likened it more to brooding. He knew Shuuhei was spending more time where they’d buried Tosen’s zanpaktou, and he’d seen him laying on the grass at the old training grounds with Rangiku periodically. He had no illusions about their friendship, as some of his less-mature squad members liked to suggest. They were both in such pain, and he suspected their companionship made it easier. Still, a lot of Shuuhei’s time was unaccounted for now that he was free to disappear for hours at a time.  
  
He put it together once he went by Jyuushiro’s estate to get some papers signed. The older man was sitting on the porch, quietly doing paperwork with a cup of tea at his elbow. He felt it immediately— Jyuushiro’s reiatsu was spread out in calming waves, and despite himself Kensei found his stiff posture dropping slightly, his muscles relaxing. It was only when he got closer and spotted the crop of dark hair that he understood. Shuuhei was sprawled across the porch, snoozing in the late afternoon sun, looking more relaxed then he had in weeks. Still, his sword rested at his side, ready to be picked up and used at a moment’s notice.  
  
Kensei cleared his throat as he came closer, and Jyuushiro glanced up, his expression melting into a slightly guilty smile, as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Muguruma-taicho, what can I do for you?”  
  
Kensei waved away the title. “Just Kensei’s fine.” He handed Jyuushiro the small stack of paper. “I could use your signature on these.” He took the papers with a nod, sorting through them and beginning the process of signing them.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind if I get some of these to you tomorrow.”  
  
“That’s fine.” Kensei said, pausing before finally broaching the subject. “You know, I was wondering where he was running off to.”  
  
“Ah, well—“  
  
“You don’t need to explain. I’m glad.”  
  
“I thought he could use a chance to unwind. You can practically see the gears turning in his head these days.”  
  
Kensei nodded slowly, his gaze dropping back towards Shuuhei, eyes following the lines of his sleeping form. Shuuhei shifted slightly in his sleep, gave a panicked mumble. Kensei felt the reiatsu redouble, and Shuuhei quieted.  
  
“So he comes here to nap?”  
  
“Sometimes.” Jyuushiro checked something off on the paper. “He’ll also come by to drink tea, or just sit in the gardens. He doesn’t talk much. I believe he comes here mostly to avoid being disturbed.”  
  
“He has a room for that.” Kensei grumbled, trying to figure out why he was even offended in the first place that Shuuhei found a place other then the 9th division to relax.  
  
“A reminder, no doubt, of his recent demotion. He’s doing better, but he’s still in a lot of pain. The 9th division holds many memories for him, and not all are good.”  
  
Kensei nodded. He wasn’t the type to seek counsel— he made his decisions for himself, and acted on them as he saw fit. Jyuushiro, however, offered the advice so easily that Kensei found himself agreeing, re-adjusting to consider what he’d said.  
  
Kensei glanced over at Shuuhei’s sleeping form again. He was on his stomach, his face pillowed in one of his arms. The kid still seemed to barely get any sleep these days, so it was reassuring to see him grabbing a few hours of naptime. It was certainly better then the way he’d stay awake for days on end, wandering around the division with a blank look in his eyes. Jyuushiro glanced up and followed his gaze.  
  
“You’re worried.” He observed, gently prodding for the reason why.  
  
“Yeah, well. You’ve seen what he’s been like.” Kensei gave a noncommittal shrug.  
  
“I think he’s needed this for a while.” Jyuushiro murmured, signing a slip of paper. “After Tosen left, he just pushed it all aside to focus on running his division.”  
  
Kensei nodded slowly, lost in thought. “Did Tosen hit him?” He asked, giving voice to his fears. Jyuushiro didn’t seem to react.  
  
“It is rare to find a Captain these days who does not hit their subordinates, although most restrict it to training.” He dipped his pen in an ink bottle, signing another paper. “However, I have no doubt Tosen was violent towards Hisagi-san, and exceptionally so.” He added the paper to a finished stack. “He had a very clear idea of justice, including punishment, and when Hisagi-san failed Tosen in any manner…” He trailed off. The sentence didn’t need to be finished. “Having spent a lot of time in the 4th division, I was certainly aware of it. I wouldn’t say it was a secret, but people didn’t speak about it. Tosen was a very well-respected Captain.”  
  
“The kid flinches when I get too close to him.”  
  
“I’m not surprised.”  
  
“He keeps asking me to train with him when he thinks he’s messed up.”  
  
“You’re his Captain. I have no doubt he expects the same treatment from you.”  
  
“If he wants to get punished so bad, why the hell does he flinch?” Kensei asked. It was cathartic to finally voice all his questions and thoughts, instead of leaving them bouncing around in his head.  
  
“I suspect that deep down he knows Tosen’s treatment of him was wrong.” Jyuushiro dipped his pen again, signing another paper. “Of course, this is really a discussion you should have with Hisagi-san.”  
  
“You think I haven’t tried?” Kensei’s voice rose, and Jyuushiro gave him a look not dissimilar to one a teacher would give an unruly student, his head tilting to indicate towards Shuuhei’s sleeping body.  
  
“You think I haven’t tried?” He repeated, lowering his voice. “He’s all wrapped up in himself, it’s impossible to get in.”  
  
“Then perhaps it’s time to let him work his own way through this. I’m sure you’ve done everything you can, but at this point I believe it’s up to him.” Jyuushiro handed him a now-finished stack of papers, keeping the rest to look over further. “Hisagi-san cares for you deeply, that much is clear.” He said quietly, his eyes shifting over to the sleeping boy. “I’m sure he will seek you out when he needs your guidance.”  
  
Kensei nodded, not entirely believing him. “Thanks.” He said, taking the papers. “And thanks for… everything else.”  
  
Jyuushiro nodded cheerfully. “Please, come by any time you need.”  
  
“Yeah.” Kensei took one last look at Shuuhei, who’d shifted in his sleep to face the sun. His dark eyelashes brushed his scarred and tattooed cheeks, but there was something strangely innocent about him in the late afternoon light. He paused, feeling his breath catch in his throat. He suddenly remembered he was being watched, and gave Jyuushiro an embarrassed nod before turning to leave.  
  
Jyuushiro watched him thoughtfully as he walked away.  
  
————————————————————————————————  
  
Shuuhei woke up slowly from a pleasant dream filled with warmth and light. He was disoriented, dead-tired in the way that comes after a long nap in the middle of the day. He felt like he could sleep forever.  
  
“Ukitake-taicho?” He asked, beginning to stretch, trying to will himself to wake up.  
  
“Right here, Hisagi-san.” The calm voice responded. “Would you like some tea?” Shuuhei nodded blearily, and he heard Jyuushiro say something quietly to a servant. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
Shuuhei sat up, nodded again. He rubbed at his eyes, finally looking around. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the estate and gardens a glowing pink. The hollowness in his chest was slowly coming back, and he found himself wishing he could fall back into the warm dream and never wake up. The servant appeared with a fragrant tea, and Shuuhei thanked her for it, took a sip of the sweet, warm drink.  
  
“I know that we have an understanding when it comes to speaking about Tosen.” Jyuushiro began, taking a drink from his own tea. Shuuhei looked up at him, still half-asleep. “However, I’d like to ask a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”  
  
Shuuhei nodded slowly, steeling himself for whatever Jyuushiro was about to ask. After all, he owed the Captain that much. He’d stumbled onto the estate a little over a week after being stripped of his rank, clutching papers that required Jyuushiro’s signature. The Seireitei was too much, full of people asking him how he was doing or giving him barely-disguised looks of pity, and he'd take any assignment just to get out of the barracks for a little while. Jyuushiro had seen him and recognized the anguish in his face, had stepped off his porch with such a look of kindness that Shuuhei fell to his knees in front of the Captain.  
  
“Ukitake-taicho-“ He’d choked, and Jyuushiro had placed a gentle hand on his head as though in redemption.  
  
“It’s alright.” He’d murmured, and taken him inside, gave him tea and most importantly, didn’t ask him a single thing. He permitted Shuuhei to explore the grounds as needed, to drink his tea and sleep on his porch. The only thing he asked of Shuuhei was that he should come whenever he felt the need. Shuuhei was well aware of the way Jyuushiro was using his reiatsu, but never mentioned it for fear that Jyuushiro would think he didn’t want it.  
  
“What do you want to know?” Shuuhei asked finally, looking down into his tea.  
  
“Are you afraid of Muguruma-taicho?”  
  
Shuuhei stiffened immediately, his thoughts straying exactly where he didn’t want them to go. His mind was already so tied up in Tosen, the last thing he needed was another Captain adding knots. He looked up at Jyuushiro, who had been so patient and kind with him. The least he could do was answer his question.  
  
“I don’t know.” He said finally. “I… I keep expecting him to act like Tosen-taicho.” He said, purposefully vague. Jyuushiro understood completely— voicing something always made it more real.  
  
“He would never hurt you, Hisagi-san.”  
  
“I know.” Shuuhei’s grip on his cup tightened. “I just—“ He shrugged.   
  
“You’re having trouble convincing yourself that.” Jyuushiro finished for him. Shuuhei nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. “He cares for you very deeply.”  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei muttered. “I know.” He said, although it felt like a lie in his mouth. He was still unsure, still half-expected Kensei to hit him until he bled or passed out. The thought of it sent chills down his spine. Calm, collected Tosen was violent beyond belief, how was he supposed to expect someone as wild as Kensei to not hurt him? He shivered.  

  
“Give it time.” Jyuushiro chided, as though he knew exactly what had been running through Shuuhei’s mind. He collected his papers and tea and stood. “I believe it’s time for dinner, would you care to join me?” He offered. Shuuhei’s face turned bright red at the thought of sharing a casual meal with a _Captain_.  
  
“Ah, n-no thank you, Ukitake-taicho. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”  
  
Jyuushiro just offered him a kind smile. “It would be no trouble.” Shuuhei still looked uncomfortable. "Well, perhaps next time. Have a good evening, Hisagi-san.”  
  
“Good evening, Ukitake-taicho.” He bowed, waiting until Jyuushiro entered his home before straightening.   
Shuuhei stretched, taking one last, long look at the gardens before flashstepping back towards the 9th division. Kensei’s office had been a mess this morning, and he was probably training right now. With any luck he could get in and file some of the finished paperwork. With the new goal in mind, he sped up. Just because he wasn’t Lieutenant anymore didn’t mean he had to be useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! I've really been swamped. Still not super happy with it, so I might go in later and edit a lil more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha oh my goddd this turned out way fluffier then i planned
> 
> i was listening to The Last Time by Taylor Swift and Gary Lightbody when i wrote the last part, so if you want the full experience feel free to play that. might put together a playlist of all the music i listened to while writing this once i finish if folks are interested.

_He didn’t know where he was, but at the same time everything was familiar. The rubble, the blood. The battlefield was covered in it, and when he looked up, the sky was a deep red. He heard the noise of wings beating, and terror shot through his heart. He was stuck to the ground, couldn’t turn around, couldn’t move. The sky was turning black now, and a hand was grasped in his._  
_“Shuuhei-“ Cracked, blood-soaked lips whispered his name. The wings were getting louder, coming closer. He tried to warn him, tried to scream, but there was nothing he could do. Tosen’s eyes were accusatory, narrowing before he exploded, spattering him with warm, slick blood. The wings were deafening. Everything was going dark, and he screamed, surrendering himself to the sheer terror coursing through his veins._  
  
Shuuhei woke up screaming, bodily throwing himself out of bed, away from the _thing_ covered in black fur and insects wings. He’d been able to keep himself quiet lately, but the dream was too close, too familiar. The nightmares had been getting worse with the increase in sleep. He was shaking, and his breath was choking into sobs, his eyes still wide with terror. He grabbed Kazeshini in a last-ditch effort to feel safe, but dropped his sword almost immediately, the flood of connection too much for his already-whirling mind. He could feel Kazeshini at the edge of his mind, worming his way in and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.  
  
“Fuck off!” He cried, choked on a sob as he tried to keep his voice down. Kensei already knew about his nightmares, the last thing he needed was for the squad members who lived on either side of him being privy to his mental state as well. Kazeshini receded, clearly having felt the madness and deciding he wanted no part in it. Shuuhei gasped, the force of his sobs and the lack of oxygen making him dizzy. He stumbled out of his room, one hand covering his eyes as he tried to force himself to calm down. The walls felt too close, too tight, and using one hand on the wall to keep himself upright, he made his way out of the division, slipping out a back door and onto the grassy training grounds. He fell to his knees and heaved, stomach acid burning as he forced it up and onto the grass. He was trembling, blinking hard and trying to erase the remains of the nightmare from his mind. _Slick blood, and oh god, it was everywhere, on his hands, on his face, the bitter taste of iron on his tongue_ — Shuuhei vomited again, choking back another sob. It was everywhere, he could still feel it, and it wasn’t coming _off_.  
  
“Again?” Kensei was walking up slowly, well-aware of the fact that Shuuhei was more or less experiencing a mental break. Shuuhei stiffened, turning to look at his Captain with such a look of terror in his eyes that Kensei balked.  
  
“S-sorry, Taicho, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ He put one of his hands up in front of his face, a weak, last-ditch effort to protect himself.  
  
“Hey, hey, no, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Kensei took out his zanpaktou and Shuuhei turned sheet-white before Kensei tossed it aside, leaving it laying on the damp grass. “See? Not gonna hurt you.” Kensei took another step forward, and Shuuhei gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply, giving a shaky exhale. A tear slipped down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent any more from falling.  
  
“One step forward, two steps back, huh?” He asked, squatting on the grass a few feet away. Shuuhei seemed to relax, and Kensei realized towering over his subordinate probably wasn’t the best way to get him to calm down. “The fuck is going on with you?”  
  
“Nightmare.” Shuuhei choked. His voice sounded sore, and Kensei realized he’d probably been screaming.  
  
“Hell of a nightmare.” He commented.  
  
“Yeah, well-“ He heaved again, but nothing came up this time. Shame burned through him, hating that of all people, he had to do this in front of his Captain. “Fuck.” He spat into the grass.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” He practically snarled, already on the defensive. He felt himself whirling out of control, needed something to steady himself before he slipped any further. His entire body was tense, ready to snap. His eyes kept jerking down to his hands, periodically running one hand down his front as though searching for something. Kensei’s stomach twisted as he put it together, remembering how he’d found the kid, covered in his Captain’s blood and guts. Holy _shit_.  
  
“You hallucinating right now?” Kensei asked quietly, carefully, pretty sure what the answer was going to be. He’d seen enough trauma to know when to tread carefully.  
  
Shuuhei didn’t say anything, just gave a jerky nod, his body still tensed as though ready to fight or run.  
  
“You don’t have anything on you, kid.”  
  
“I know.” His breathing was harsh.  
  
“C’mon.” Kensei stood up and retrieved his zanpaktou, sliding it back into place and giving Shuuhei a moment to collect himself. The kid looked unsteady, swaying slightly on the spot, clenching and unclenching his fists, wiping them on his clothes. Kensei didn’t say anything, just lead him back into the division, heading back towards his room.  
  
“Taicho?”  
  
“I need a drink. So do you.” He roughly pushed his door open, stepped aside to allow Shuuhei in before closing it behind him. Shuuhei had been in the Captain’s quarters before, but never Kensei’s. It looked different then when Tosen was there. Less stark. Tosen’s room had been relatively blank, always clean and tidy. Kensei had a few things on the shelves, a couple books, some clothes on the bed. There were chairs pulled up to the table, and Shuuhei got the distinct feeling that this was more of a home to Kensei then it had ever been to Tosen. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.” He said in a way that suggested he wasn’t really sorry at all. Kensei glanced back at him. “Sit down.” He ordered, and Shuuhei sat, anxiety coursing through him, his eyes still dropping down to his hands to check for blood. He could _feel_ it, slick and sticky between his fingers, running down his arms, into his eyes—  
  
“Hey!” Shuuhei jumped, his eyes jerking up to Kensei. “None of that shit, alright? Don’t fucking zone out like that.” He shoved a glass of sake into Shuuhei’s hands. The look on the kids face had made him nervous, and he had no doubt what was running through Shuuhei’s mind when he stared at his hands, terror in his eyes.  
  
“There’s nothing on your hands.”  
  
“I know.” Shuuhei said miserably. He took a drink. Kensei watched him, an unreadable look on his face before pouring a glass for himself.  
  
“This happen often?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“…This.” Kensei gestured vaguely at him. “The hallucinations.”  
  
Shuuhei shifted uncomfortably. “They’re usually just after nightmares.”  
  
“Usually?”  
  
“Sometimes I’ll zone out.” He admitted quietly. A thought popped into Kensei’s head, and he voiced it hesitantly, dreading the answer.  
  
“Were you hallucinating in that meeting after you killed Tosen?”  
  
Shuuhei stiffened, then gave a resigned nod. Kensei’s heart sank.  
  
“Fuck.” Kensei breathed. He sat down, took a drink. “Have you been hallucinating in combat?”  
  
“No.” Shuuhei took a drink, and looked down at his glass. “Sometimes after.”  
  
“I need to be able to count on you if we’ve got enemies on us.”  
  
“You can count on me, Muguruma-taicho.” His eyes were suddenly fierce, despite his otherwise sick appearance. Kensei felt a swell of pride. Even after all the shit the kid had been through, he still had a lot of fight in him.  
  
“Good.” He said gruffly, taking a drink to hide his smile. He sighed, sitting back in his chair, looking out at the field behind the barracks. It occurred to Shuuhei that that’s probably why Kensei came outside— his face burned as he imagined Kensei getting ready to sleep only to see his Lieutenant stumble out of the barracks and vomit on the grass. He hated how much of a burden he’d become to Kensei, and no wonder he’d been unseated, he—  
  
“What did I say about that shit?” Kensei said suddenly. “You’re right here, you need to act like it.”  
  
“Sorry taicho.”  
  
“Fuck, don’t— don’t apologize, I’m not mad, just—“ Kensei made an exasperated noise. “I can _feel_ you stressing out from here, your reiatsu is fucking insane.”  
  
“Sorry.” He apologized again.  
  
“No, I—“ Kensei groaned in frustration. “Alright, c’mere.” Shuuhei looked confused, but scooted his chair closer, wondering what was going on. Kensei closed his eyes briefly, trying to focus.  
  
“Taicho?”  
  
“Shut up. Hang on a second.” He took a couple deep breaths, then sent out his reiatsu in an attempt to recreate what Jyuushiro did. It didn’t come as easily to him for obvious reasons— it was hard to imitate the deep calm of the 13th division Captain, but when he opened his eyes he could see Shuuhei’s shoulders relaxing.  
  
“Better?”  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei breathed easily. Kensei’s was harsher then Ukitake’s, more of a choppy ocean then a placid lake, but the familiarity of it made it that much more comforting. He leaned back, his eyes slipping closed. Without stress keeping him awake, his exhaustion was hitting him like a train.  
  
“Don’t fall asleep.” Kensei said, but he sounded more amused then anything. Shuuhei hummed noncommittally. Kensei took the drink out of Shuuhei’s hand, placing it on the table.  
  
“Thanks.” Shuuhei said sleepily.  
  
“Don’t mention it.” Kensei got up, moving around the room, but Shuuhei was too relaxed to crack an eye and see what was going on. The room was warm and well-lit, and the reiatsu permeating the air was distinctly Kensei’s.  
  
“Did you talk to Ukitake-taicho?” Shuuhei asked sleepily.  
  
“I came by when you were napping once.” He explained as he tidied up, periodically glancing over at the half-asleep kid. “Seemed like a good trick.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Alright kid, you’re gonna need to get up for a second.” A large hand hauled him up from the seat, and Shuuhei felt a distinct sense of deja vu.  
  
“Did you come get me with Komamura-taicho after Tosen-taicho died?” He asked suddenly. Kensei paused.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh.” He said quietly. It had never occurred to him before. He hadn’t been able to see much through the blood and tears. He listed slightly.  
  
“Hey, stay with me, kid.” Kensei leaned down, depositing him on something warm and soft. Shuuhei cracked opened an eye. Kensei had put him on a bedroll laid out on the floor, a few feet away from his own bed.  
  
“Why’d he get you?” He asked.  
  
“Dunno.” Kensei said, not offended by the question. “I was close by. I wasn’t in as bad of shape as him. I’m big enough that I can drag around a little squirt like you.”  
  
Shuuhei snorted sleepily at that. He heard the quiet noise of a sheet being unfolded, and then a blanket was being laid over him. “Thanks.” He mumbled, curling up under it.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Kensei said, affection leaking into his voice. There was something really appealing about Shuuhei when he was sleep-drunk, sweet and easy to speak to.  
  
“You were with me in the 4th division too.”  
  
“I was.”  
  
“Why did you wait for me to wake up?” He asked.  
  
“Well, some idiot kid copied my tattoo. I had to see what was with that.”  
  
“M’sorry, taicho.”  
  
“I don’t actually care.”  
  
“Not that.” He murmured.  
  
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, kid.” Kensei said, glancing at the kid’s sleeping form.  
  
“‘M sorry you need to keep saving me.”  
  
“Don’t apologize for that.”  
  
“Don’t want to be a burden.”  
  
“You’re not.” Kensei sighed, sitting back down, taking a drink. “…After we were hollowfied— it was terrifying. It was agony. And we needed to lean on each other to even just stay alive.” Shuuhei was looking up at him, a single sleepy grey eye watching from where he was curled up in the blankets. “It’s okay to need people.”  
  
“Taicho—“ His breath hitched.  
  
“Hey, hey. You’re fine.” Kensei refocused his reiatsu, and Shuuhei relaxed, a tear slipping from his good eye. “Go to sleep.” He said quietly. “Fuck, kid, you need to sleep.” The kid was clearly miserable, all fucked up and scared shitless half the time.  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei’s breath shuddered slightly.  
  
“Don’t cry.”  
  
“Sorry.” He sniffled.  
  
“You’re not a burden.”  
  
Shuuhei nodded, a few more tears slipping from his eyes as his breathing slowed, his back relaxing. Kensei watched, his heart aching in a way that was painfully sweet. He got up, putting the glasses away, turning out the light and slipping off his shoes.He slid into his own bed, still focusing on the calming reiatsu. Shuuhei murmured something incoherent in his sleep. Kensei let out a huff of air, his body relaxing into his mattress, lulled to sleep by the gentle inhales and exhales of the kid on the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rewrote this sooo many times. in retrospect, i shouldn't have deleted the ex-chapers, cuz i realize somebody might've wanted to read them. anyways, here's chapter 8! sorry this took so long! writing shuuhei angst is difficult bc he's not really an expressive person, so i keep worrying that everything i'm writing is super ooc but then i realize i just have to accept it
> 
> anyways enjoy

Shuuhei avoided him after that.  
  
Not entirely purposely, certainly not obviously, but he avoided eye contact, and contact in general. Seeing each other was sometimes unavoidable, but certainly not as difficult as it would have been if he were still Lieutenant.  
  
Small blessings.  
  
There was a certain degree of shame in breaking down so entirely— granted, Kensei had seen more then enough of him being weak. Episode after episode managed to be in front of his new Captain, and it killed him. Why couldn’t Kensei have been around before he ki- before Tosen died? At least then he was (relatively) sane and could manage the hell out of his division to boot.  
  
When he complained to Rangiku about it, she’d suggested that perhaps it was _because_ Kensei returned that he was having such a rough time— maybe it was because he felt comfortable enough to break down knowing he (and his division) would be taken care of.   
Shuuhei rejected the idea completely. He had too much pride to even consider it, and besides, Kensei was the last person he wanted to fall apart in front of. Kensei had seen him as a crybaby already, he wanted to show that he could be strong.   
  
He rolled over in bed, his face squished against his pillow, eyeing the light streaming in through the window. It had been a rough night. It had been a rough night in a series of rough nights stretching in both directions. He sat up, rubbed eyes that he knew were dark from lack of sleep, and slumped out of bed, tugging on clothes halfheartedly as he went.  
  
He’d been thinking about leaving.   
  
It was too painful. Tosen was too painful, holding his zanpaktou was too painful, being in the division barracks was agony. Just leaving it all behind in the Seireitei, heading out to wherever. He had nobody to go back to— like most of the members of the Gotei, he had no family. He already felt distant from the people anchoring him. He knew he loved them, but somehow it was hard to feel it anymore. Tosen was dead. Kira was deep in the throes of a depression terrifyingly similar to his. Rangiku had become alarmingly quiet, to the degree that it was unnerving. Komamura hadn’t seen him since the meeting with the Head Captain. Renji had become distant, unsure of how to treat his friend who was clearly suffering. And Kensei— Kensei, like the others, had done nothing wrong. And yet Shuuhei found himself avoiding his Captain, terrified of what he had become for him.  
  
Tosen had been his moral compass when he couldn’t trust his own, had been his confidence when there was none, had been _everything_. Knowing Tosen believed in him or trusted him with a task made everything clear, black and white. And now that he was dead— now that he fully knew how far his Captain had been willing to go, he lived in fear of giving Kensei the same position as Tosen in his mind, being completely dependent on another person. He tried to not be, tried to be strong and steady but there had to be something to hold him up. People thought of him as brave, but that was with Tosen at his back, Tosen at his side.  
  
Without him he was weak. And with Kensei— Kensei couldn’t become the same thing for him. He couldn’t put that burden on him. He couldn’t live in fear of Kensei leaving or dying, being forced to experience his entire world fall down around him once more.   
  
Hero-worship was a dangerous thing, and he was apparently predisposed towards it. He finished getting dressed before padding out into the hall. The division was still quiet— it was pretty early, and they’d finished printing and distributing the night before. No doubt the squad members were using the lull in work as an excuse to catch up on sleep.   
  
He didn’t blame them. Now that he was no longer vice-captain, he couldn’t go around banging on doors, demanding that the division get up _on time_ , that they grab their swords and meet him out back to train, ASAP.   
  
He stepped onto the division’s back porch, looking out over the training field. The grass was still wet with dew, and there was a low fog hovering over the damp earth as the morning sun evaporated the condensation. He stretched, feeling his back crack. It was beautiful, but he thought it more then felt it, numbly watching the still field. He stepped out into the damp grass, aware of the wetness soaking his tabi but not really caring.  
  
He wanted to see Komamura. It had been too long, and he knew he shouldn’t have left it as he had. Komamura was no doubt trying to give him space— after all, half the Seireitei knew the real reasons why he was unseated. Rangiku had been telling everybody that Kensei just wanted to give Mashiro another go at being Lieutenant, but he seriously doubted anybody believed her.   
  
He sighed, kicking at a mushroom that was sprouting through the blades of grass. It flew from it’s stalk, rolling for a moment before landing with a dull thunk. His thoughts drifted back to the moment of Tosen’s death— reaching for his Captains hand, and then suddenly, nothing. Just red. He never understood why that happened, what even caused it. Deep inside him he worried that it was _his_ fault, that somehow the contact between them caused it. Or that Tosen had wanted to do it, was trying to draw Shuuhei closer so he could be killed by the explosion. Or, worst of all, that it had simply happened. That Tosen had wanted to live, to return to the Soul Society, but his body had given up and stolen that away from all of them.   
  
“Hey, brat.”  
  
Shuuhei whirled around, stumbling slightly as he saw his Captain standing on the back porch. “Good morning, taicho.” He replied stiffly, formal as always. Kensei’s hair was sticking up, his amber eyes watching Shuuhei.  
  
“Aren’t you cold?”  
  
Shuuhei thought about it for a moment before realizing belatedly that yes, he was cold. The hair on his bare arms was standing straight up, and it bothered him he hadn’t noticed it earlier.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“You wanna come in?”  
  
“No.” Shuuhei said with a shrug. He did kind of want to go inside, but he also found himself savoring the harsh bite of the cold.   
  
“Suit yourself.” Kensei returned the shrug. “Don’t get sick.” He chided, before heading back indoors. Shuuhei had no doubt that the Captain had once again seen him from his window, and resolved to save his thinking in the future for somewhere more private. He sat down in the damp grass, feeling the cool wetness soak through the seat of his clothing, dampening his legs. For now, Kensei already knew he was out here. As long as he didn’t lose it, he was fine. He laid back completely, feeling the biting cold in his back, his hair, his bare arms. He felt it, but at the same time he didn’t. He didn’t care that he was cold, that he was ruining his uniform, that he’d have to get changed. He wanted the cold ground to swallow him up, push him down into the earth until everything was cool and dark. His mind wandered, and his eyes drifted shut.  
  
“What did I tell you about getting sick?” He awoke with a start, scrambling away from Kensei’s shadow. The Captain looked irritated but not angry— concerned was a better word. Shuuhei avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes on the ground. His back was soaked, and he found himself wishing he’d chosen a better place to nap. The cold was back in full-force, and he shivered as a drip of cool water ran down his spine.  
  
“Sorry, taicho.”   
  
“Thought you’d left or something, ‘till I walked out here and saw your idiot ass laying on the ground.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“You know how open you are to an attack, sleepin’ in public with nobody watching?”   
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re shivering, idiot.”  
  
“I know.” Shuuhei said, irritation creeping into his voice. It was up to him to worry about his own well-being. Kensei wasn’t his parent, and he sure as hell wasn’t Tosen.  
  
“Get inside.”  
  
“I’m fine out here.” Shuuhei replied. It was childish— he wanted to go inside, was simply disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing. He was tired of being treated like he couldn’t take care of himself.   
  
“That’s an order.”  
  
“No.” Shuuhei said more forcefully, standing up.   
  
“I’m your goddamn Captain.”   
  
“Maybe I don’t want you to be.” He spat, everything inside him screaming for him to stop, to close his mouth and go inside and pretend that none of this ever happened.   
  
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Kensei demanded, an unexpected fear stabbing through him.  
  
“Maybe I’m done.” He threw at his Captain, savoring the hurt flashing across his face. Now Kensei could know what it felt like to be the weak one, the one that everyone pitied. He could experience what it was like to be stripped of his pride, and then treated like he’d never had any to begin with.   
  
“Done with what?!”  
  
“This.” Shuuhei gestured vaguely at the division. “The Seireitei.”  
  
“What happened to taking your seat back? I thought you wanted to be my Lieutenant!”  
  
“I don’t want to be anything.”   
  
“Where the hell is this coming from?”  
  
“I can’t be here anymore. I can’t be around the Seireitei, I-“ His voice faltered. “I can’t be around you.”  
  
Kensei ignored the pain lancing through his gut, letting his anger get the better of him. “Fuck. Fine. If that’s how it is, I hope you get what you want.” He took a few steps forward. “But you won’t. You’re a soldier, kid. It’s in your blood, and if you leave you’re going to hate yourself, and you’re going to rot. Alone.” He spat the final word, glaring at Shuuhei before stepping past him, purposely walking too close to drive his shoulder into the smaller man’s, sending him stumbling. It was petty, a hollow satisfaction in the face of what felt like having the carpet pulled out from underneath him.  
  
Kensei didn’t turn around to see if Shuuhei was watching him, and Shuuhei kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of him to avoid giving his Captain the satisfaction. He hated himself. He hadn’t planned on that conversation going that way. He’d only been thinking about leaving, a vague idea in the back of his mind. He certainly hadn’t planned on Kensei being the first to know, and definitely not in such an aggressive manner.   
  
He stumbled forward, only half-aware of where he was going. He knew people were muttering as he passed, was fully aware of the way his clothes stuck to his legs and back, his hair still trickling water. It didn’t bother him— at least it wasn’t warm. He twitched visibly at the thought, sped up as though running from his thoughts. His running landed him in front of the 7th division, and he swayed on the spot, looking up at the building that was oddly imposing, almost imitating it’s Captain.  
  
“Hisagi-fukut— Hisagi-san?” Shuuhei turned, catching the slip-up but not commenting on it.  
  
“Oh. Hi, Testuzaemon.”   
  
“You’re wet.”  
  
“I know. Is Komamura-taicho around?”   
  
Tetsuzaemon looked nervous, but nodded. “He’s in his office.”  
  
“Thanks.” Shuuhei said, walking, still somewhat unsteadily, towards the building.   
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine.” He said idly, pushing open one of the massive silver doors. “See you around.”  
  
“You too, Hisagi.” He said, watching as the former Lieutenant disappeared behind the large doors. He’d heard that Shuuhei had been looking more haggard then usual, but there was a difference between hearing and seeing. It was strange to see someone he’d considered a friend so clearly low. He had always been slim, but he’d also been muscular and powerful. Now he was just thin, his hair limp and streaked with small patches of grey. He carried himself differently too, and was almost unrecognizable as the brave, self-assured Lieutenant he’d known.   
  
Komamura had dealt with the death in his own way, shutting himself in his office for hours at a time, or staring off into the distance, deep in thought. He went up to Tosen’s grave regularly, although Tetsuzaemon only knew that because he’d followed him once, curious about where he’d been disappearing to.   
  
The click of the door closing brought him back to reality, and he looked at the doors for a moment before heading off to do patrols. They would be fine, he assured himself. Everything would be alright.   
  
————————————————  
  
Shuuhei walked down the halls of the 7th division. They were deserted— most of the squad members were either training or working, and he appreciated the silence. The gentle click of nails on wood alerted him to Goro’s presence, and he knelt down to pet the dog. Goro gave him a cursory sniff, pressing his face into Shuuhei’s side as he pet him.  
  
“Hi, Goro.” Shuuhei murmured, running his hands through the soft fur. He glanced up as he heard someone approaching.   
  
“Hello, Hisagi-san.” A deep voice rumbled. Shuuhei jumped to his feet at the greeting, ignoring as the dog whined and pawed as his leg, asking to be pet again. Komamura was as imposing and impossible to read as ever.  
  
“Good morning, Komamura-taicho.” Shuuhei stooped into a bow. He looked down at his feet when he straightened up. “Taicho—“  
  
He was cut off as Komamura enveloped him in a massive bear-hug, pressing him to his soft fur that was not unlike Goro’s.  
  
“Taicho-“ Shuuhei gasped.  
  
“It’s alright.”  
  
“No, I can’t breathe.” He choked. Komamura released him, and Shuuhei took a step back, taking in gulping breaths of air.   
  
“I wish you had come sooner.” Komamura eyed Shuuhei as he gasped for air. “I did not like hearing of your condition secondhand.”  
  
Shuuhei reddened. “Sorry, Komamura-taicho.” He felt like all he’d been doing lately was apologizing. He hated that Komamura knew about how he’d been falling apart. He hated that his pride had been stripped down so much that he’d been left bare, that even Tetsuzaemon was looking at him with the same worried expression that Rangiku wore whenever she saw him. “I wanted to talk to you about Tosen-taicho.”  
  
“I assumed as much. Come on in.” He said, stepping aside so Shuuhei could walk into his office. Sunlight was streaming in through the open windows, paperwork neatly stacked on both desks. A small pot of ink was open on Komamura’s, and a pen lay discarded by an open letter.  
  
“I’m sorry to disturb your work.”  
  
Komamura waved his worries away with a hand the size of Shuuhei’s head. “It wasn’t particularly important. Have a seat.” He said, sitting down in his own massive chair. Shuuhei sat down in the chair opposite his desk, looking around the office. He hadn’t been there in a while, but nothing significant had changed. Komamura watched him, his eyes studying the hollows under his cheeks and eyes, the streaks of grey in his hair. “You wanted to discuss Kaname.”  
  
Shuuhei just nodded, but didn’t say anything, mulling over his thoughts. “I… I wanted to know if you think we could have brought him back. If he hadn’t—“ Shuuhei inhaled sharply. “Yeah.”  
  
Komamura studied him. “It’s a waste of time to torture yourself over what-ifs.” He replied finally. He had dwelled on the thought himself, but ultimately it was a tired road of thinking to go down.   
  
“But—“  
  
“There’s nothing we can do anymore. Thinking about that will only take you down a dark path.”  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei said reluctantly, looked down at his hands, wishing he had changed out of his wet clothes before coming by. They certainly didn’t help his already bruised pride. He looked up at the Captain. “Are you alright?” He asked, remembering Komamura’s final words to Tosen wryly. Tosen hadn’t left a hole in his heart so much as a gaping wound deep in his chest.   
  
“I am working to accept that Kaname was not the man I thought I knew.” He mused. “It is more difficult then I imagined.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“We did our best, Hisagi-san. In the end, the cards fell where they did.”  
  
“I miss him.” He admitted.   
  
“As do I.” Komamura’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, his deep amber eyes gazing out the window, not focused on anything in particular.   
  
“I keep thinking that I’m going to look to Muguruma-taicho like I did Tosen-taicho.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Shuuhei thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. “I followed Tosen-taicho blindly. I didn’t— I didn’t trust myself, just him. And now that Tosen-taicho is _gone_ —“ He stopped himself abruptly.  
  
“Shuuhei.” Shuuhei looked up sharply, surprised by the sudden familiarity in name. “You did not followed Kaname blindly.”  
  
“What?” He asked quietly, shocked that anybody would think that. Even he knew that he’d been blinded by his Captain.  
  
“You didn’t. Yes, you followed Kaname, perhaps farther then you should have. But when he came back, you knew when to fight. If you had been blind, you would have fought alongside him.”  
  
“He was hollowfied. He wasn't really Tosen-taicho anymore.”  
  
“Your new Captain is part hollow as well, but do you question his character or loyalty to the Seireitei?”  
  
“It wasn’t his choice!”  
  
“And how do you know it was Kaname’s?” Komamura’s eyes flashed. “Whatever the reason, when he turned his sword against the Gotei, you knew where your loyalties lay. You made the right choice, Shuuhei. He needed to be stopped. You cannot destroy yourself over a choice you were forced to make.”   
  
Shuuhei nodded slowly, swallowing past the lump in his throat.  
  
“As for Muguruma-taicho…” Komamura turned his gaze out to the window, watching the way the sun splashed over the Seireitei. “I don’t believe he would allow you to treat him the way you treated Kaname. Yes, he values loyalty, but he does not value it when it is unquestioned. As his Lieutenant, he would likely expect you to tell him when he has gone too far.”  
  
“How do you know that?”   
  
“Because that is half the purpose of a Lieutenant. To hold back a Captain when they have drifted too far. Although I may have been inaccurate lately, I consider myself an excellent judge of character. Muguruma-taicho is brash and arrogant, but he is an honorable man.”  
  
“Taicho…”    
  
“You are a good man and a good soldier, Hisagi-san. I say that as a superior, not as a friend.” Komamura eyed him. “I do hope that you will recover soon, and retake your position as Lieutenant. You are a great benefit to the Gotei.”  
  
Shuuhei nodded rapidly, trying to avoid being overwhelmed with emotion. He’d always had a great respect for Komamura, and hearing those words come from his mouth felt like his heart was being squeezed in his chest. “Komamura-taicho…”   
  
“Thank me by taking back your seat.” He said simply. “If that is all…”  
  
“Yes, thank you, Komamura-taicho.” Shuuhei said, speaking past the lump in his throat, avoiding the Captain’s gaze as he stood up.   
  
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Hisagi-san.”  
  
“You too, Komamura-taicho.” He said, leaving the office quickly. It was the first time in a long time that he was overwhelmed with emotions that weren’t filled with unspeakable agony. His heart hurt in his chest, but in a way that made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. When he stepped out into the sunlit square, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His mind drifted back to his earlier conversation with Kensei. He’d have to set the Captain straight.  
  
With that in mind, he turned back towards the 9th division. He had been running for long enough.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! this one has a bit of humor (i tried!) and a bit of angst. Enjoy!

Shuuhei changed before going to his Captain. He carefully tied his obi, deft fingers running over the fabric so it lay flat. Despite outward appearances, he did care for the pomp and tradition of the Seireitei. There was something about his uniform that made him feel _right_. He knew he hadn’t been himself lately. He hadn’t been himself in a long time. He still didn’t feel right, knew that there was something deeply _wrong_ somewhere inside him. It ached constantly, like a piece of shrapnel that had been in there so long that muscles and tendons wound around it, creating a home for something never meant to be.   
  
He didn’t follow Tosen blindly. He repeated Komamura’s words to himself, finding strength in them. He still wasn’t sure if he believed it. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. But for now, they were what he needed to keep himself sane and standing. He stepped out into the hall, smoothing his uniform one more time before heading to Kensei’s office, hesitating before knocking.  
  
“Yeah?” He heard the familiar voice on the other side, and slid the door open, stepping into the room. Mashiro was at his— _her_ desk, her feet up on the polished wood, not a piece of paperwork to be seen. Kensei was bent over his own, a pen in a dangerously white-knuckled grip. “Oh.” Kensei eyed him, unimpressed. “What do you want?”  
  
“I—I don’t want to leave.”  
  
“Too late.” Kensei said idly, dropping his pen and shooting Mashiro a look.   
  
“What?” Shuuhei’s eyes widened, sure that he had been hallucinating, because there was no way, _no way_ —  
  
“Paperwork’s filed. You’re not in my division anymore. ‘I can’t be around you,’ huh?”  
  
“Taicho—“ Shuuhei’s voice was hollow, still disbelieving. His stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. He’d had too many of these moments lately, terrible and dark, and this time he felt like he was actually going to be enveloped by it, his vision darkening at the edges.   
  
“Don’t call me that.”  
  
“Please.” He was dimly aware that he was literally begging, that he was supposed to have _pride_ , but this was too much, too overwhelming in light of what he’d been struggling with the past month.   
  
And then Kensei started laughing. Mashiro snorted, rolling her eyes.  
  
“T-taicho?”  
  
“Holy shit kid, I really had you going there.” He said, grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit. You should have seen your face.” He glanced down at Shuuhei’s confused and horrified face. “It was a joke, brat. You’re still in my division. You think I’d do paperwork that quickly?” He was still chuckling as he picked his pen back up.  
  
“Why?” He asked raggedly, still trying to recover from the emotional whiplash. Anger sparked in him, shocked and hurt Kensei would find it funny to tear him down that much more.   
  
“Little taste of your own medicine. I didn’t appreciate being told you were leavin’.” Kensei looked up from his paperwork at Shuuhei, their eyes meeting. There was hurt in his eyes, and Kensei held his gaze for a moment longer before looking back down at his paperwork. Shuuhei’s anger dissipated at the look in Kensei’s eyes, replaced instead with shame.   
  
“Muguruma-taicho…” He took a step forwards. He’d said that he was leaving partially to hurt his Captain, sure, but he hadn’t expected it to actually upset him. He was worthless, there was no way he could be of value to someone like Kensei.   
  
“You’re dismissed.” Kensei said easily, keeping his eyes trained on his paperwork. Shuuhei opened his mouth to say something, but nodded instead, still watching his Captain who was purposely avoiding his gaze.   
  
“Oh my _god_ , just make out already!” Mashiro groaned from her desk. Shuuhei turned bright red, and there was a quiet snapping noise as the pen in Kensei’s hand broke.   
  
“You wanna die today, Mashiro?!” Kensei snarled, rounding on his Lieutenant. His eyes darted back to Shuuhei, his own cheeks slightly pink as well. “I said you were dismissed, kid.” He said, before turning back to Mashiro. Shuuhei nodded, mortified, quickly escaping the office. Leave it to Mashiro to do say something so…unnecessary. He needed a drink.  
  
———————————————————————————————  
  
He went straight to the 10th division, knocking on the office door. “Come in.” Histugaya’s calm voice rang through the door, and he entered, his eyes immediately going to Rangiku’s desk. She was sleeping, a few papers strewn about. “What do you need, Hisagi-san?”  
  
“Ah, I was here to see Mastumoto-fukutaicho…”  
  
“Oh. Well. MATSUMOTO!” Rangiku jerked from her sleep, looking around wildly before her eyes landed on Shuuhei. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she settled into a smile. Shuuhei hadn’t visited in ages. She couldn’t remember the last time he was the one to initiate spending time with other people.   
  
“Taicho, you could just shake me awake like normal people…” She complained, hands going up to fix her sleep-mussed hair. “How are you, Shuuhei?”   
  
“I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink.”  
  
“It’s eleven in the morning!” Histugaya said disbelievingly.   
  
“Sure!” Rangiku sprang from her desk. Histugaya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
  
“Just… get her back in one piece.” He ordered, waving a hand at the two of them. “And don’t let Kyoraku-taicho find you, or Nanao will have all of our heads.” His exasperation was evident, but he knew if he refused this Rangiku wouldn’t get anything done for the rest of the day.   
  
“Yes, Captain!” She said, grabbing her bag. “C’mon, Shuuhei.”   
  
“Have a good day, Histugaya-taicho.” Shuuhei said with a quick bow, sliding the door shut behind him.   
  
Histugaya sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Children.” He muttered, dipping his pen back in the inkwell.   
  
—————————————————————————————  
  
Kensei roared triumphantly as he buried Mashiro’s face in the dirt. He couldn’t hold his hollow mask nearly as long as she could, but he could still whoop her ass in combat. She snarled, whirling around to aim a kick at him, but even she could tell that the battle was over.  
  
“Kenseiiii, you cheated.” She whined, allowing her mask to dissipate.  
  
“How the hell did I cheat?! That was a fair fight!” He argued, letting his mask fall apart as well.   
  
“You know your bankai is too strong for little ol’ me!” She said, shooting him some serious puppy dog eyes. He groaned and rolled his eyes.  
  
“Shut up, Mashiro. C’mon, there’s still paperwork.”  
  
“I can’t, Kensei. You hurt my hands.” She held up her hands as though to show, but they looked as manicured as ever. She grinned, redoubling the puppy dog eye effort. He sighed and wiped a bit of dirt off his chin.  
  
“Fine.” He said, giving up. There was no talking Mashiro out of what she wanted. Besides, even if he refused she wouldn’t get anything done for the rest of the day. She cheered, leaping forward to wrap her arms around his middle.  
  
“Thank you, Kenseiiii!” She cried, before bounding off.  
  
“That’s Muguruma-taicho to you.” He grumbled. He shrugged, turning back towards the office. There was always more paperwork to do, and once again he wished Shuuhei was his Lieutenant again. Mashiro had at least done alright at distributing the Seireitei Communications, except the one time she threw a copy of it at Kyoraku’s head. Then again, he wasn’t sure it was entirely uncalled for.   
  
Shuuhei. He felt a little bad about what he’d done to the kid that morning, but he’d deserved it. There was something sickly satisfying about seeing the raw pain on his face. Giving the kid a taste of his own medicine certainly wasn’t nice, but he sure felt vindicated.   
  
His mind drifted back to finding the kid on the battlefield, amongst the blood and rubble. He’d barely heard what Komamura said to him, just that somebody was hurt and he needed help moving them. He’d wanted to tell him to shut up and do it himself, because couldn’t he see that Hiyori was hurt? But then he noticed the way the Captain was stumbling, barely able to keep himself upright. The way his fur was spattered with blood. There was no way he’d be able to move someone in that condition. He’d nodded, reluctantly leaving the rest of the Vizards.   
  
And then he’d seen the kid. First it was just an unfamiliar patch of blood-soaked dark hair, a pair of hunched, quaking shoulders. And then— “Hisagi-fukutaicho.” Komamura’s deep voice had rumbled, and Kensei had balked. It was the kid, except now he was a Lieutenant. His heart swelled with pride before breaking when he heard the choked, sobbing noises coming from the kid.  
  
“Taicho… taicho…” He was crying over and over, his entire body soaked in the blood and gore of the man he was mourning. His agony-soaked reiatsu was practically tangible, everything in Kensei’s body screaming not to get too close to the kid.   
  
“Holy shit.” Kensei breathed, “What…?”  
  
“Kaname exploded.” Komamura said grimly, and it would’ve been funny if not for the man on the ground on his knees, curled in on himself as he clutched was what left of his Captain’s clothing to his chest.   
  
“Is he okay?” Kensei asked. “I mean, besides…” He gestured at the kid.  
  
“Kaname stabbed him through the stomach. He was still able to fight afterwards, but I’m not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to stay awake.”   
  
Kensei nodded, beginning to notice the blood leaking from the wound in his back. “We should get him upright.”  
  
“I tried earlier. He was… resistant.” Komamura said cautiously, and Kensei picked up on the subtext immediately.  
  
“He wanted to stay with Tosen.”  
  
Komamura just nodded at that. “We need to get him to the fourth division.”  
  
“Yeah.” The two started walking towards him, flanking him on either side.  
  
“Hisagi-fukutaicho.” Komamura said quietly. The kid didn’t respond, instead just shaking and trembling, His eyes were wide, his breath coming in choked sobs. Tears were streaming down his face, leaving clean patches amidst the blood and gore. His eyes periodically darted down to his hands, and his crying was occasionally broken up by a gasping of, “Oh god, oh god…” He coughed up a bit of blood and made a gagging noise, holding the clothing tighter.  Komamura looked at Kensei and nodded.  
  
  
Kensei reached down, and as gently as he could, helped Komamura get the kid on his feet. Shuuhei seemed dazed enough that he wasn’t even aware, leaning against Kensei for support when he made a quiet choking noise, a bit of blood dribbling out of his mouth. Kensei didn’t know if it was Shuuhei’s or Tosen’s, didn’t even want to know.   
  
The kid jerked suddenly, letting out a sob, and Kensei’s eyes dropped down to his stomach wound, which was bleeding in earnest now. “Shit—“ Kensei hissed. “I need a medic!” He cried, moving one of his hands to cover the steadily bleeding wound. The kid finally passed out at that point, his weight falling against Kensei, staining his clothes with his and Tosen’s blood. The last of his tears dripped down his face, warm and wet against Kensei’s neck.   
  
They’d patched him up as much as they could on the battlefield to stop the worst of the bleeding. Kensei ended up carrying him all the way to the 4th division, even though the medics insisted they could take it from here. He felt like he owed the kid something— if he’d killed Tosen earlier, none of this would have happened. He’d watched in dull horror as they rushed him into an operating room. When Shinji came to find him, he’d asked him who’s blood was on him. Kensei told him that he didn’t know.  
  
Shinji told him Hiyori was going to be okay, and Kensei briefly felt dizzy with relief. “Good.” He’d said quietly, taking the moment to lean forward in the chair he was sitting in, burying his face in his hands.  
  
“Kensei?”  
  
“I’m glad Hiyori’s okay.” He mumbled into his hands. He felt a gentle hand briefly rest on his shoulder.   
  
“Muguruma-san?” An unfamiliar voice called out. He glanced up. It was one of the 4th division members. She was pulling an operation mask off her face, a small smile on it.  
  
“Hisagi-fukutaicho is out of surgery, if you’d like to see him.” Kensei stood up and nodded.   
  
“Who?” Shinji asked, looking between Kensei and the division member.  
  
“An old friend.”  
  
———————————————————-  
  
Shuuhei took another long drink, drunkenly placing the sake bottle back on the table. His balance was as impeccable as always, unlike Rangiku, who’d already knocked over two bottle because of unsteadiness and her tendency towards sweeping gestures.   
  
“Sounds like Mashiro wants to see you make out.” Rangiku snorted with a lecherous grin. “Say, if I got some photos, the Shinigami Women’s Association—“  
  
Shuuhei shot her his best approximation of an ‘I’ll-kill-you’ look, which, considering his state, wasn’t nearly as threatening as intended. “S’not gonna happen, anyways.” He sighed, leaning back. “You- you can’t sleep with subordinates. It’s unethical.”  
  
“So you’d do it if you could?” She teased, her eyes bright.  
  
“I just said it’s unethical.”  
  
“Yeah, but that hasn’t stopped— um, Unohana-taicho and Isane.”   
  
Shuuhei snorted incredulously. “You’re making that up.”  
  
“How do you know?!”   
  
“Unohana-taicho is too professional for that.” He said loftily, taking another drink.   
  
“I think you’re just putting her on a pedestal. Either way, there must have been _some_ Captain _sometime_ who slept with a division member.”  
  
“Why do you think we never hear about them?” Shuuhei pointed out seriously. “It’s always the division members that either get transferred away or kicked out of the Gotei. Nobody can touch a Captain.”  
  
“Oh! Kaien Shiba’s wife was in his division!”   
  
“Moot point, they were married before he got promoted. Anyways, look where that got them.” Shuuhei said dully. “If anything, it’s proof that you shouldn’t get involved with someone in your division.” He looked down into his drink, swirling it before lifting the bottle to his lips and draining it.   
  
“Kyoraku-taicho and Nanao!”  
  
“Even if they are together, that’s not a relationship I’d want to imitate.”  
  
“Toshiro and Momo!”  
  
“Don’t be gross.” Shuuhei said, his mouth splitting into a small smile. “Besides, they’re not in the same division.”   
  
“Soi-fon-taicho and Omaeda.” Rangiku grinned devilishly.   
  
“I just told you not to be gross.”   
  
“You’re no fun.”  
  
“I just really don’t want to imagine that, thanks.” He said with a laugh. His cheeks were tinged a bright pink from the alcohol, and when he laid his head down on the table he was still sporting a small smile. Rangiku sat back in her chair, gazing out the window. Shinigami were strolling by, on the way to work or training. Shuuhei could tell that she was looking for more people to drink with, and before he could stop her, she was calling out to someone.  
  
“Hey! Kuna-san!”   
  
“That’s Kuna-fukutaicho to you!” A high-pitched voice called back, and Shuuhei groaned.  
  
“Come drink with us!”   
  
“Who’s us?!” The voice was drawing closer, and Shuuhei buried his head in his arms.   
  
“Me and Hisagi-san!” Rangiku was at the window now, brandishing an unopened bottle of sake.   
  
“Ah, alright then!” Mashiro leapt daintily through the window, happily accepting the bottle from Rangiku.  
  
“How do you guys even know each other?” Shuuhei asked with a groan, eyeing his own empty bottle.  
  
“She just joined the Shinigami Women’s Association!” Rangiku said cheerfully, her pale eyes still searching the people walking by. “Hey! Renji!”   
  
“What?!” He said, striding over with an irritated look on his face.  
  
“Wanna drink?” Renji peered in the window.   
  
“Oh, hey, Shuuhei.” He said. “Kuna-san.”  
  
“Kuna-fukutaicho!”  
  
“It’s kind of early to start drinking.” Renji said reasonably, accepting the bottle Rangiku passed to him.  
  
“Shuuhei had a weird day, so he came by. And of course, I can’t refuse a friend in need.” She said dramatically.  
  
“You just wanted an excuse to drink!” He piped up, face reddening as he snuck a drink from Rangiku’s abandoned bottle.  
  
“Shuu made Ken-chan real mad!”   
  
“You can’t call him Ken-chan, that’s Zaraki-taicho.” Rangiku pointed out, turning from where she was speaking to Renji.  
  
“I thought Yachiru called him Kenny?” Shuuhei asked, thinking back.   
  
“She switches.” Renji said, popping open his bottle.  
  
“I bet Shuuhei wants to call him Ken-chan!” Mashiro crowed. Rangiku burst into giggles. Shuuhei exchanged a deadpan look with Renji.  
  
“Did I miss something?” Renji asked, taking a drink.  
  
“Kuna-san’s just being an ass.”  
  
“I’ll kick your ass!” She piped up from across the table.   
  
“Not right now, we’re drinking.” Rangiku chided. “Hey!” She cried out again, and Shuuhei groaned, burying his face in his hands.  
  
“This is why I drink with Kira.” He said to Renji, who nodded in agreement.  
  
“You need to stop drinking here.” Renji suggested. “If there’s nobody walking by, she’ll stop screaming at ‘em.”   
  
“Mugaruma-taicho!” Rangiku was waving wildly at the Captain. Shuuhei’s heart skipped a beat, and he silently cursed whoever decided the 9th and 10th divisions should be near each other.  
  
“Shit—“ Mashiro said quickly, climbing out of her chair and clamoring under the table.  
  
“What the hell, Kuna-san?” Renji asked, watching with interest.  
  
“Kuna-fukutaicho! I told him I’m injured!”   
  
“Too late!” Rangiku chirped. Kensei had made his way over to the window, standing next to Renji.   
  
“Somethin’ you need, Mastumoto-fukutaicho?”  
  
“We’re drinking! Join us!” He peered past her into the room.  
  
“Don’t you guys have work to do? Mashiro, what the hell are you doing?”   
  
“Hiding!”   
  
“Well, you suck at it. Get out from under the table.” He ordered, his eyes drifting over to Shuuhei. “Really, Shuuhei? This is what you’re doing with your time?” He said, a hint of disapproval in his voice.   
  
“…Yeah.” He said, too drunk to come up with an excuse, shame burning through him at the tone of his Captain’s voice. His eyes flicked up to briefly meet his Captain’s before averting his gaze.   
  
“Ooh, good comeback!” Mashiro cried from under the table. Rangiku let out a bark of laughter before clapping a hand over her mouth at the poisonous look Kensei shot her. Renji just looked on as though he were watching a particularly fascinating television show, occasionally taking swigs from his bottle.   
  
“You’re all insane.” Kensei growled. “I have work to do so I can make up for my useless subordinates.” He said, shaking his head. He turned to leave, then, reconsidering, turned back and took the bottle from Renji’s hands. “That’s for wasting my time!” He shot back at them, striding off and taking a drink from the bottle.  
  
“He took my sake.” Renji said mournfully, watching the Captain as he walked away.  
  
“It’s okay, there’s more where that came from.” Rangiku said, wrestling her bottle from Shuuhei and passing it to Renji.   
  
“I really should get back to work.” Shuuhei said, sitting up.  
  
“Don’t mind Kensei, he’s just bein’ a big meanie.” Mashiro said, extricating herself from under the table.   
  
“He’s right, though, I have things to do—“   
  
“And you’re in no condition to do them.” Renji said, exchanging a look with Rangiku. “Sit down, chill out a bit.”   
  
“But—“  
  
“Sit _down_ , Shuuhei.” Rangiku said. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. “That’s an order.” She said, doing her best to imitate Kensei’s scowl. Mashiro snorted with laughter. Shuuhei grinned.   
  
“At least stay with us until you sober up.” Renji added from the window.  
  
“Renji, why don’t you just come inside?” Rangiku asked, opening a fresh bottle for herself.   
  
“Ah. Alright.” He said, delicately balancing his bottle on the windowsill before easily hauling himself through.  
  
“Why doesn’t anybody use the door?” She complained.  
  
“You didn’t tell me to!” Renji had reclaimed his bottle, and pulled a chair out to sit at the table with them. “Where’s Kira?”  
  
“He hasn’t wandered by yet.” Shuuhei said with a smirk.   
  
“He probably has work to do. Acting Captain and all that.” Rangiku said. They fell silent for a moment, all very aware that Shuuhei was acting Captain until recently.  
  
“Don’t feel bad.” Shuuhei said idly, still drunk enough that nothing was really upsetting for him. “Stuff happens.”  
  
“D’you think you would’ve taken Captain if Mugaruma-taicho weren’t here?”  
  
“Mmm. I don’t think I could have. Not…not like this.” He bit his lip. Rangiku took a drink, hiding her surprise that Shuuhei would mention his mental state so casually. “I should have been eligible— I killed the last Captain.” His hands shook as he reached for Rangiku’s bottle, and she surrendered it easily.   
  
“Does that count if he wasn’t Captain at the time?” Renji asked.  
  
“Dunno. I didn’t ask Yamamoto-soutaicho.” He took a long drink. “Anyways, I’m happy with Mugaruma-taicho.”  
  
“You bet he is.” Mashiro said with a devilish grin. “You know, I was there when Kensei met you. This tiny crybaby kid tryin’ to fight a hollow.”  
  
“You tried to fight a hollow?” Rangiku asked, shocked. She’d heard the story before, but Shuuhei always skipped that part, just said simply that Kensei had saved him from a hollow.  
  
Shuuhei’s ears turned red. “Well—“  
  
“With a stick!” Mashiro said cheerfully. “Of course, he didn’t last long. Good thing we showed up in time!”   
  
“I bet baby Shuuhei was so cute!” Rangiku said, smiling as she imagined it.  
  
“He was adorable.” Mashiro said with a nod. “You can ask Kensei.”   
  
“He didn’t think I was cute, he yelled at me!”   
  
“Kensei doesn’t know how to talk to children.” Mashiro said reasonably. “I’m sure he thought you were very cute. I’ll ask him.”  
  
“Don’t!” Shuuhei said, mortified.   
  
“It’s okay, Shuu-chan! I’m sure he still thinks you’re cute!” She teased. Shuuhei snorted, rolling his eyes. He moved to take a drink but stopped himself, instead sliding the bottle back over to Rangiku.  
  
“You done?” She asked, accepting the bottle.  
  
“Yeah, I need to start sobering up.”  
  
“More for me!” She said cheerfully, taking a drink in celebration.   
  
He shot her a lopsided grin. He knew it would take at least a couple hours to move beyond dead-drunk, but there were worse people to spend the time with.   
  
“Hey! Tetsuzaemon!” Shuuhei groaned as Rangiku’s voice rang out again.  
  
“Really, Rangiku?” Renji said, equally exasperated as Tetsuzaemon wandered over to the window.   
  
“Hey, Matsumoto-fukutaicho.” He said, trying his best to play it cool. It was no secret that he was one of the many men who had something of a crush on her.  
  
“Would you like to drink with us?”  
  
“Er—“ He looked behind him, as though checking for his Captain. “I really shouldn’t.” He said, glancing into the room. “Oh, hi, Hisagi-san. Abarai-fukutaicho.”  
  
“Hey Tetsuzaemon.” The two chorused together. Renji took another swig of his drink.   
  
“How was your meeting with Komamura-taicho?” He said, addressing Shuuhei.   
  
“Ah. Good.” He shrugged uncomfortably. Rangiku mouthed ‘meeting?’ at him, and he knew he wouldn’t be off the hook until he explained everything to her.  
  
“Anyways, I really should get back to work…” He said, looking over his shoulder again before turning to leave.  
  
“Next time, then!” Rangiku said with a wave.  
  
“Er, yes!” He said, a blush coloring his face as he left.   
  
“How the hell is he a Lieutenant?” Renji breathed, looking after him in drunken wonder.   
  
“More importantly, what meeting did you have with Komamura-taicho?” Rangiku asked, looking at Shuuhei with interest.  
  
“Ah, I just wanted to talk with him.” He said with a shrug, looking down at his hands.   
  
“About?”  
  
He chewed his lip. “Tosen-taicho.” He finally said, very quietly. Renji and Mashiro suddenly developed a deep interest in their sake bottles. Matsumoto continued to stare intently at Shuuhei.  
  
“Was it a good talk?” She asked carefully.  
  
“…Yeah.” His voice sounded hollow. He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m—I’m way too drunk.” He said honestly.   
  
“Alright.” Rangiku said, backing off.   
  
“I really should go.” He said, beginning to scoot back his chair.   
  
“Shuuhei—“  
  
“S’ not your fault. I have stuff to do.” He stood up, steadying himself on the table before making his way towards the door.  
  
“Hey—“ Rangiku got up, pulling him into a quick hug. He tensed, awkwardly returning the hug.   
  
“It’s alright.” He reassured her. “I’ll see you later, Renji. Kuna-san.”  
  
“Kuna-fukutaicho!” She shouted after him, but he was already out the door. They all silently watched him leave.  
  
“Nice one, Rangiku.” Renji said quietly.   
  
“Hey!” She turned to him, her eyes blazing, her cheeks pink with shame. “I’m sorry I’m worried for him!”  
  
“He just needs to do his thing.”  
  
“You mean he needs to be depressed? There’s something wrong with him, Renji! We can’t just ignore it!”  
  
“I’m not saying we ignore it. I’m saying we leave him alone.”  
  
“Do you really think he wants to be alone when he’s like this?”  
  
“Are we talking about him, or are we talking about you?” Renji shot back. Mashiro inhaled sharply.  
  
“I should go!” She said, scrambling out of her chair and out the window. The two ignored her, glaring at each other.  
  
“Get out.” Rangiku said, her voice low and dangerous.   
  
Renji stood up, his hand resting on the hilt of his zanpaktou. “I know Shuuhei’s not doin’ so hot. But pryin’ in his business and pushing him around isn’t gonna do anything. You know him as well as I do—he needs to think his way through stuff.”  
  
“He can’t think his way through stuff when he’s going in circles!”  
  
“Again, are we talkin’ about him or about you?” He asked, before brushing past her and striding out the door. Rangiku glared after him before giving a wordless, enraged shout, hurling her half-empty bottle at the wall. It shattered, pottery dropping to the floor. Sake dripped down the wall. She watched the sake for a moment before stumbling backwards into one of the chairs. Her breath hitched, and a hand flew up to her mouth, doing her best to muffle the noises. She doubled over in her chair as a quiet whimper escaped.    
  
She sat alone in the room, silent except for the sound of crying and the gentle dripping of sake hitting the floor.   
  
————————————————————  
  
Shuuhei wandered down the street, focusing on staying (relatively) steady. The last thing he needed was for people to be passing around rumors about him becoming a drunk. He kept his destination in mind, his feet carrying him towards Tosen’s grave.  
  
“Hey, kid.” He heard a familiar voice behind him and turned to see his Captain.  
  
“Hi, taicho.”   
  
“You done drinking, then?”  
  
“Yeah. What’d you do with Ren— Abarai-fukutaicho’s sake?”  
  
“Drank some, then gave the rest to some idiots from the 11th. You busy?”  
  
“…Kind of.”  
  
“Kind of?”  
  
“I was gonna go see Tosen-taicho.”  
  
Kensei looked at him intently for a moment. “Mind if I join?”  
  
“…Sure.” Shuuhei said with a half-shrug.   
  
He peered at the younger man. “Are you still drunk?”  
  
“Yeah.” He mumbled, averting his eyes. Kensei snorted, a grin spreading across his face.  
  
“Y’know, you should ignore what Mashiro says.”  
  
“I try to.” Shuuhei said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.   
  
“It’s why you need to stay in this division. If somethin’ happens and she takes over, she’ll lead this division straight to hell.”  
  
“Should you be saying that about your Lieutenant?”  
  
“Shouldn’t be news to anyone that she isn’t fit to lead. She’s a helluva fighter, but she’d never get anything done.”  
  
Shuuhei shrugged noncommittally. They made their way to Tosen’s grave in silence, the only sound the wind through the trees. The sun was beginning to set, casting the Seireitei in a golden glow. Shuuhei halted when they got to the small marker. He gazed down at the stone that marked the burial spot of Tosen’s nameless friend.   
  
“There wasn’t much to bury.” Shuuhei’s voice wavered as he looked at it. It seemed like the only proper place to bury him. The Soul Society had left it up to him and Komamura, and the day after Shuuhei got out of the 4th Division they went to the hill and buried his clothes and zanpaktou. Komamura had said a few words, and Shuuhei didn’t say a single thing—he knew if he opened his mouth the only thing that would come out would be sobs.  
  
“I know, kid.” Kensei said very quietly, one of his large hands resting on Shuuhei’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently against the fabric.   
  
“Komamura-taicho told me that I didn’t follow Tosen-taicho blindly. Because I knew when to fight against him.” He said, almost as though asking for confirmation. Deep down, he was sure that wasn’t true. If he’d been smarter, if he’d been _stronger_ —  
  
“He’s right.”   
  
“I keep thinking, if I’d noticed something, maybe I would’ve been able to keep it from happening. Maybe I could’ve kept him from turning against the Seireitei.”  
  
“There’s nothing you could have done.” Kensei said darkly, dropping his hand. “Those wheels were turning long before you came to the Seireitei.”  
  
“What?” Shuuhei looked at him, his face paling slightly.   
  
“Tosen was responsible for our hollowfication.” Kensei murmured. “I’m surprised nobody told you.”  
  
“What…?” He asked again, except this time his eyes were wide, one of his hand moving up to cover his mouth in shock. Kensei belatedly realized that perhaps this wasn’t something the kid would want to know, but he would’ve found out eventually.   
  
“He stabbed me in the back.” Kensei said quietly, recounting the night that he constantly played over and over in his head. “He fought Shinji when he tried to save us. All under orders from Aizen.” He said bitterly.  
  
Shuuhei looked like he was about to pass out. “Taicho wouldn’t.” He breathed. “He— he believed in _justice_.”  
  
“I don’t know what he believed in, but it definitely wasn’t that.”  
  
“But taicho—“ He fell to his knees. His eyes were wide, his hands trembling. Kensei looked down at him, concern suddenly coloring his face. Shuuhei gasped, one of his hands shooting out to grab ahold of Kensei’s haori, the other one meeting the dark grass to steady himself.   
  
“Hey, kid, you need to breathe.” Kensei said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic concern. He knelt down beside Shuuhei, gently prising his hand from his clothes. Shuuhei’s hand joined his other on the grass with a quiet thump. He watched the kid gasp for air. He felt useless— there wasn’t much he could do beyond sit there and wait it out.   
  
“T-taicho, I can’t breathe. C-can’t—“ He made a wheezing noise and curled in on himself. Kensei reached out, hesitating before laying one of his broad hands on Shuuhei’s back. Shuuhei tensed, and Kensei almost withdrew his hand before the kid relaxed into it, leaning slightly against him. He ran his hand up and down the kids back.   
  
“You’re alright.” He grumbled, affection leaking into his voice. Shuuhei took in a shuddering gasp, his hands tightening on the grass, twisting them until the blades broke apart in his hands. “Deep breaths.” He wasn’t unfamiliar with the sort of sick panic Shuuhei was experiencing. After getting hollowfied, they all had their fair share of bad memories. He’d spent plenty of evenings sitting on Mashiro’s bed, rubbing her back while she gasped for air. He hadn’t liked it then either. He hated it when people who were usually so strong could be made so vulnerable.   
  
Shuuhei’s breath hitched. “Taicho w-wouldn’t.” He said, the heartbreak evident in his voice. His chest ached at the thought that his Captain would allow hollowfication. “He wouldn’t.” He said, and to his horror, he felt his eyes filling with tears. He wiped at them, gritting his teeth as he tried to get his breathing back under control. His body shook with the effort.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Kensei said quietly. Tosen was a piece of crap, but the kid didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to shoulder his ex-Captain’s burdens as though they were his own. He didn’t deserve to wreck himself over the fact that there was no way he could’ve known that his Captain was a traitor.   
  
“N-no, taicho. Don’t apologize.” He turned to look at his Captain, his eyes suddenly dark and fierce despite his pale face and trembling body. He could still barely breathe, but he glared at his Captain as though he were standing tall. “All this time, I’ve been talking about Tosen-taicho like he’s a hero. But h-he—“ Shuuhei took another deep, labored breath. “He wasn’t a good person.” His tears crested again, and he gave an angry growl as he tried to stem them with the palm of his hand.   
  
Kensei had stilled, but he returned to making small circles on the kids back, watching as Shuuhei struggled to accept that his Captain hadn’t simply had a lapse in judgement— he’d been evil, through and through. His Captain hadn’t been a good person. Tosen, despite all he had given Shuuhei, despite all he had taken away, in the end had been nothing more then a traitor. But at the same time, he’d also been his Captain. He’d trained him and molded him into the man he was today.   
  
Shuuhei shrugged Kensei’s hand off, turning away from his Captain. “I think… I think I want to be alone right now.” His voice was thick with tears, but Kensei knew that the kid was just trying to save face at this point. Kensei stood slowly, nodding even though the kid couldn’t see him.   
  
“I’ll be back at the 9th.” Kensei told him before turning to leave. When he got to the bottom of the hill, he looked back. Shuuhei was barely visible against the dying sun. All Kensei could see was a single dark figure at the top of the hill, his forehead resting against the small stone that marked Tosen’s grave.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay. I try to keep my fanfics a labor of love-- i feel like they're best that way! so i tend to keep writing for when I want to write/am feeling inspired. I know i switch tenses a bit in this, but that's because i'm a lazy writer or something. It read weird when it was done correctly. I might go back and fix that at some point. Also, regarding the focus on Rangiku-- she's always been a favorite character of mine, she's very multidimensional and excellently layered. I wanted to stick in a lil bit of that love. All your reviews and kudos are loved and appreciated, please let me know what you think of this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

  
Kensei was bent over his desk, his eyes scanning over the same piece of paperwork that he must have read 10 time already. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes and glaring at the paperwork as though it would do itself if he stared hard enough. Normally he could get through it relatively quickly, but his mind was off in another world, trailing to his Lieutenant as soon as he began reading the mind-numbing words. This was his least favorite part about being head of the division. This wasn’t was being a Captain was about— he should be leading and training his division, not sitting hunched over a desk while they blunder through exercises.  
  
He rubbed at his eyes again, dropping the paper onto his desk. He leaned over and blew out the sputtering candle on his desk, casting the room in darkness. It was already late, and there was no way he was getting anything else done tonight. His eyes dropped to his zanpaktou, leaning against his desk in a quiet suggestion. His hollow had been clawing at him lately, begging to be let out, wanting the release. He could train, but there was nobody to train against. Mashiro could fight him, but she was off god-knows-where, more then likely drinking. And Shuuhei…  
  
Shuuhei hadn’t turned up since Kensei had left him at his ex-Captain’s grave, crying and alone. Guilt burned through him at the thought of the kid curled against Tosen’s grave. He hadn’t realized that the kid didn’t know about how his hollow powers came into being. He didn’t realize knowing how deep Tosen’s betrayal ran would wreck him that much further, although it should have occurred to him. He wasn’t somebody who was in tune with other people’s emotions, although Shuuhei had certainly forced him to try to be. He was tactile, not talktative. He was a touchy person— he didn’t comfort people by talking to them, he comforted them by holding them or being close to them, or even better, by killing whatever was causing the problem. All of the Vizards were private enough that all the comforting that needed to be done was holding somebody while they cried, or rubbing Mashiro’s back when she had her attacks. Even then, all of that happened relatively rarely. They certainly didn’t talk about their feelings.  
  
He’d cried too, after hollowfication. As somebody who generally despised emotional weakness, it had only happened once. He’d been sitting on his bed in the warehouse, his mind straying back to everyone he’d left in the Soul Society. The betrayal of a friend he thought he’d known. The deaths of the people on his squad.  
  
And the fact that he’d never be able to go back.  
  
And before he knew it, his breath was coming in little gasps, and he was gritting his teeth together and trying his best to be silent as tears streamed down his face. Everything had been so _fucked up_ , and all that was running through his mind was that nothing would ever be the same. He just sat and choked on his own tears, feeling more desperately, painfully, agonizingly alone then he had in centuries.  
  
He hadn’t looked up when the door creaked open, just snarled “Get out!” in typical Kensei style, although the threat in his voice had been somewhat negated by the tears. He heard the door click shut, but then the mattress had dipped and there was a cool hand on his back.  
  
“Kensei.”  
  
_Shinji_.  
  
“You can’t do this.”  
  
“I know.” He had snarled through gritted teeth, turning so Shinji couldn’t see the tears streaming down his face.  
  
“Mashiro, Love, everyone—“ His eyes were dark and intense. “They all look to us. We have to be strong for all of them.”  
  
“Yeah.” Kensei took a gasping breath, one of his hands moving to cover his eyes.  
  
It was silent for a moment, and then the mattress dipped again as Shinji stood. “This is the last time you get to cry.” He said finally, before turning and walking out the door. And it had been. Kensei had mourned the loss of the Seireitei and his friends, but then he’d dried his face and walked out of his room to start cooking dinner. Shinji eyed him at dinner later, and Kensei had just given him a stoic nod.  
  
He understood the draw of crying. Of breaking down so completely and just allowing the sadness and pain to flow like a river. It was cathartic. But Shuuhei— every time the kid cried, it just seemed like there were more tears on the way. There was no relief for him. At least with Kensei, he’d had the other Vizards. He’d has his own self-assurance that he’d be fine. But when Shuuhei’s only rock and source of self-assurance was causing the pain, there was nothing for him to turn to. Turning inward only forced himself to dwell on the agony that much more, thinking himself in circles until he was a shaking, shuddering mess. And turning outward— fuck, Kensei could tell that Shuuhei felt ashamed of himself. Every time Shuuhei was in pain around his Captain he could see the mixture of both sadness and shame that he was breaking down in front of someone he wanted to be strong for. He didn’t know how to tell the kid that it was okay. That there was no shame in a temporary weakness.  
  
His eyes flicked to the window as he detected movement in the front, coming towards the barracks. It was the kid— he could tell by the spiky hair and the way he moved like he had a knife in his stomach. He was slumped over with sadness and fatigue, and Kensei had to wrestle his temptation to go to him. He flexed his hands. He didn’t like sitting by idly while his people were in pain. And while previously his people were just the Vizards, the loose definition had been extended to Shuuhei as well.  
  
_His_ people— people he’d fight for, people he’d kill and die for. People that he’d do anything to save. Mashiro had been his first, because despite how much he raged at her and how much she irritated him, she was still one of his own and he’d protect her, dammit. And then it was his squad and his team. And then it was a tearful little boy with a stick in his hands.  
  
And then hollowfication happened, and it was the Vizards and only the Vizards. He’d learned his lesson about trusting people— Tosen had taught it to him effectively. Even now, he looked at the other Captains with barely-concealed distrust, his mind on overdrive trying to figure out who would be the next to betray them all.  
  
It didn’t do well, to distrust his fellow Captains, but he could tell Shinji felt the same way. The only Captain he would turn his back to was Kensei, and his eyes were always carefully scanning the others, occasionally resting on their zanpaktous as though trying to divine what murderous intentions they had in store.  
  
At one point Shunsui tried to talk to them about it. He’d summoned the two of them to the Captain’s hall, eyed them both with his single dark eye. “You need to trust the other Captains.” He’d said, in the idle, casual way that he gave both orders and death sentences. “It’s important that we all work together as a team.”  
  
And Shinji and Kensei had both yes-sir’d and nodded, and when they turned their back on the Head Captain to leave the hall both of their hands went to casually rest on the hilts of their zanpaktos in preparation for an attack.  
  
Tosen had taught them both about trust very effectively. It was earned, not ordered.  
  
Kensei still didn’t turn his back on some of his seated officers. He’d resolved to get to know them better, but even then he preferred caution. Even Shuuhei sometimes gave him a prickling at the back of his neck, although he ignored it. Shinji had warned him that Shuuhei might snap and stab him. After all, his slavish devotion to Tosen might drive him to continue his work.  
  
Kensei had turned to look at Shinji with murder in his eyes, and told him that if he ever tried to say that shit again, he’d sever his head from his neck. And Shinji had backed off with the usual laugh and grin, but his eyes still tracked Shuuhei when he walked behind his Captain, a silent  
threat in them.  
  
Shuuhei picked up on the mistrust, but it didn’t seem to bother him. After all, at this point he was more then used to distrust. After Tosen betrayed them, even his own division looked at him like he would snap at any moment. On a particularly low night Shuuhei had to submit 17 change of division requisition forms. He’d finished the paperwork, then sat at his desk and numbly drank himself to sleep, his glazed-over eyes staring off into nothingness. Rangiku and Kira were there the next morning, alternating between rubbing his back and holding his head up from the toilet as he vomited so he wouldn’t hit his forehead on the seat. Kira had dealt with a similar situation, but his division at least remained relatively loyal. At a particularly bad point Shuuhei had berated a division member for bad-mouthing Tosen, and ever since then his whole squad had looked at him warily. Besides, they were familiar with the almost slavish devotion he had to Tosen— how he’d followed every order without question. When he and Tosen sparred, the few times he bested his Captain he’d withdraw his zanpaktou immediately and fall to his knees, not getting up until Tosen motioned for him to.  
  
Kensei had heard the stories and whispers from his squad members. It was hard to ignore the rumor mill in a squad where there had recently been such a massive upheaval. Few of the squad members were legitimately sympathetic towards Shuuhei— most just seemed scared of him. Yes, he’d been a mess lately, but he was as powerful as ever and many of them were sure that with his demotion, he would snap. He wasn’t going to bother addressing the whispers. Having a Captain comment on them would lend them an undeserved legitimacy.  
  
Kensei was pulled from his thoughts as the door slid open.  
  
“Hi, taicho.” Shuuhei’s eyes were red but dry, a determined look on his face.  
  
“Kid.” Kensei stood up automatically, standing uselessly next to his desk for a brief moment before walking around to the front of it, leaning against the dark wood. He didn’t like sitting behind his desk when talking to subordinates— it felt too much like a schoolteacher speaking to a student. “You okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Shuuhei reddened with shame, his eyes darting down to his feet. Kensei just watched him, waiting for whatever he clearly wanted to say. Kensei waited for a moment, but it became clear that he was still wresting with whatever he wanted to say.  
  
“What’s on your mind?” He prodded, impatiently. “Spit it out, kid.”  
  
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden.”  
  
“We’ve talked about this.”  
  
“This… it’s not fair. That I’ve been going on about Tosen-taicho, and all this while he was the one who helped to hollowfy you.”  
  
“You didn’t know.” Kensei said with an idle shrug. It hadn’t bothered him. Tosen had done more then enough shitty stuff to Shuuhei— he didn’t need to add to the poor kid’s list of reasons why he should hate himself for loving his Captain.  
  
“But he _destroyed_ everything you had.” Shuuhei said, anger burning in his eyes. “He took away your division, and killed your friends. He made you into a hollow for an _experiment_.”  
  
“He hurt you too.” Kensei said solidly. “I’ve made my peace with what he’s done. I’ll never stop hating him, but I’m not gonna punish you for being conflicted.” He was lying, at least a little bit. He wasn't sure if he'd ever make his peace with what Tosen had done. He would always burn with rage for how he'd been wronged.  
  
“How can you just accept it like that?” Shuuhei said, suddenly sounding so much younger. “How can you just make peace with what he did?”  
  
“There’s nothing I can do about it.” Kensei said simply. Shuuhei looked slightly unsteady for a moment, and Kensei took a step forward, just in case. “You should go to bed.”  
  
Shuuhei smirked weakly. “I feel like you’re always telling me that.”  
  
“It’s usually true.”  
  
He nodded, his smile twitching slightly before fading, his mouth back into the usual straight line. His brows were furrowed, like he was trying to think something through. Shuuhei was usually incredibly skilled at hiding his thoughts, which meant there was a definite degree of emotional distress going on.  
  
“Kid?”  
  
“Sorry, taicho, I—“ His breath caught in his throat. “I need to go.” The horror was evident in his eyes as he tried to hide for the second time that night. He turned on his heel, whirling around with the intention to head back to his room. Kensei reached out, his large hand enveloping Shuuhei’s thin wrist.  
  
“You don’t need to run.”  
  
“Taicho—“ Shuuhei tugged uselessly against his Captain’s firm grip.  
  
“There’s nothing to feel ashamed of.” He said, keeping his amber eyes trained on Shuuhei’s large, terror-filled ones. “I don’t care if you cry.”  
  
“Taicho, please.” He begged, his breath coming faster, pulling more desperately at his captured wrist.  
  
“You’re fine.”  
  
“I’ll stay, but please don’t hold me like that.” Shuuhei begged breathlessly, the words spilling out like a confession, and it took Kensei a moment to realize what he was saying. Kensei jerked his hand back from the kid’s wrist as though he’d been burned, and Shuuhei withdrew his palm to his chest.  
  
“Shit, sorry.” Kensei said, horrified at his own blindness. No wonder the kid had seemed scared shitless— he was already just on the edge of tears and anxiety, and Kensei had grabbed him in a way that clearly reminded him of his ex-Captain. He took a step towards Shuuhei, and the kid flinched back. Kensei’s stomach dropped. “I’m sorry.” He said again.  
  
“S’alright, taicho.” Shuuhei said, but his eyes were a little wild, his chest still heaving too quickly for Kensei to be comfortable. “Just scared me a little.” His breath was catching like he was going to have another episode, and at this point Kensei wasn’t sure if there was much he could do. The kid had been on the edge of panic all day.  
  
“What can I do?”  
  
“M’fine.” He said, clearly lying, tensing his muscles in an attempt to keep his trembling to a minimum. “I wanted to do this alone.”  
  
“Too fuckin’ bad.” Kensei said, taking a step back to lean against his desk so the kid could have more air. “You need to learn that there’s no shame in this.” He’d left Shuuhei alone earlier because he could understand the need to mourn alone. But to leave the kid alone when all he would do was drive himself further into panic— that wasn’t something he could allow.  
  
“Being told that—“ He took a gasping breath, gritted his teeth. “Doesn’t change how I feel.” He bent over, his hands resting on his knees, gripping so tightly his knuckles were white.  
  
“You’re stubborn like that.”  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei said, shooting him a half-smirk before making a sudden wheezing noise. “—hard to breathe.”  
  
“I know. Deep breaths, alright?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You’re going to be alright.”  
  
“I know. I-“ His eyes unfocused for a moment. “Taicho.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“M’sorry.”  
  
“Fuck, kid, don’t apologize. I hate it when you do that shit.”  
  
“I killed him.” Shuuhei moaned quietly, and Kensei briefly realized that he hadn’t been the ‘taicho’ Shuuhei was referring to.  
  
“You hallucinating?”  
  
“A little bit.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, almost trying to rub away the images.  
  
“Come here.” Kensei beckoned, intending to pull him into a hug. But instead, Shuuhei took a step forward and dropped to his knees so his head was about level with his Captain’s navel. Kensei looked down at him, wondering if he’d collapsed, before realizing that this was intentional.  
  
“What is this?” He asked quietly, trying to hide the horror in his voice.  
  
“Tosen-taicho used to make me.” Shuuhei breathed, closing his eyes. Kensei tensed with anger. “It’s not like that, taicho.”  
  
“He never…?”  
  
“He never asked.” Shuuhei confirmed quietly. Kensei’s heart stuttered in his chest at the implication. He would have if his Captain had asked. Of course. Shuuhei was, above all else, incredibly obedient.  
  
“Why, then?”  
  
“Loyalty.” Kensei’s hand came down to run absently through Shuuhei’s dark hair, and Shuuhei leaned forward into the touch, resting his forehead against Kensei’s navel.  
  
“You don’t need to do this.”  
  
“It calms me down.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.” Kensei balked, unsure if he should encourage this behavior.  
  
“I can stop.” Shuuhei said, cracking open an eye to look up at his Captain. But he seemed calmer, his breathing was slower, his eyes less blown, and Kensei couldn’t bring himself to stop him. Besides, the warm weight on his stomach was kind of nice.  
  
“No. No, it’s fine.” He murmured, and he found himself running another hand through Shuuhei’s soft, dark hair. He knew it was a little sick, that this was happening, that he was allowing it, but the kid got so little comfort. Was it so terrible to offer a reprieve from his constant state of sick panic? “I thought you were doing better.”  
  
“So did I.” Shuuhei said quietly, practically purring as Kensei slowly stroked his hair. Everything in Kensei was screaming for him to stop, to _end this_. He felt himself falling towards something that couldn’t be undone. This was too far from what a Captain could do to comfort a subordinate— and Tosen had _encouraged_ this. He taught Shuuhei to seek this out, to crave it so it would calm him.  
  
“I think Tosen-taicho had a loyalty complex.” Shuuhei said, his voice a little muffled by Kensei’s clothes. “Makes sense. He betrayed you. He must have figured it was possible for one of us to betray him.”  
  
“Did he have anybody else do this?”  
  
“I don’t think so, no.” Shuuhei looked up at him. “But I was at his back. He needed me to be loyal.”  
  
“Yeah.” Kensei said quietly, stroking another hand through his hair. Shuuhei relaxed immediately, his head going back to rest on Kensei’s navel. “You know this isn’t normal, right?”  
  
“…Yeah.” Shuuhei said hollowly.  
  
“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, peering down at the man on his knees. Shuuhei gave a halfhearted shrug. “That’s probably why you hallucinate so much. Not sleeping or eating is fuckin’ stupid.”  
  
“I know.” Shuuhei said, an edge of hurt in his voice. “You don’t need to tell me. It’s difficult enough as it is.”  
  
“Sorry.” Kensei ran a soothing hand through his hair. He guiltily knew his aggression was misplaced. He almost wished that he’d been the one to kill Tosen— not only would it have saved the kid so much heartbreak, but then he’d at least get some of the revenge he was craving. His hollow hissed inside him, awakened by the brief thought of revenge. Kensei screwed his eyes shut, pushing it down. _Not now_.  
  
“Taicho?” Shuuhei asked, picking up on the sudden flex in his abdomen.  
  
“Sorry. Hollow.” Kensei said, still for a moment before relaxing.  
  
“Ah.” Shuuhei shifted. “I should…” He began to pull away. Kensei grabbed the back of his head, firmly pulling him so his forehead rested back against his stomach. “Taicho?” He asked, looking up at his Captain.  
  
“It’s okay to need this.” Kensei said gruffly, not looking at him. “It’s alright to need people, or to feel like you’re weak.” His eyes were fierce when he finally directed them down to his subordinate. “I believe in you, Hisagi Shuuhei.” He said, his hand on his head as though in redemption.  
  
“Taicho—“  
  
“Go to bed.” Kensei ordered, taking a step back. Shuuhei sat there for a moment longer before climbing back to his feet. He turned to leave, before turning once again and hurriedly bowing in a belated attempt to recapture some propriety.  
  
“Have a good evening, Muguruma-taicho.” He said, before whirling around and practically running out of the room.  
  
“You too, kid.” Kensei said, waiting until Shuuhei was out of earshot before slamming a fist into his desk. Fucking _Tosen_. Kensei was almost blind with rage, seething with pure hatred for the man. He twisted Shuuhei around until he was purely obedient, brainwashed into finding comfort in being on his knees. Who _does_ that? He felt his hollow trying to force his way to the surface, drawn by the anger. “Not now.” Kensei growled, gripping the desk so tight he left indents as he pushed the hollow back down. “Fuck.” He knew if he changed he’d probably destroy the entire office, not to mention the division itself. He shook his head, letting out a harsh breath before turning his back on his desk, leaning against it. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.  
  
At least now he knew what to think about when he needed his hollow to last a few more seconds. He felt for the kid, he really did. And he hated himself every time he saw him break down, because no matter what he knew it was _his_ fault. Tosen was a traitor, and he did nothing to tell anyone. He let the kid work under the traitorous Captain, and holy _shit_ , maybe he was treated so terribly because of his tattoo. He wore a constant reminder of the terrible things Tosen had done, and although the man was blind he was absolutely certain that he must have known.  
  
He sat back against his desk, his eyes wide. Was it because Shuuhei wore his mark that he had to deal with such abuse? Was it because of the tattoo on his cheek that Tosen forced him to kneel, making sure that he was more loyal to him then the Captain who had saved him as a child? Horror slowly replaced anger as it dawned on him. He regularly guilted himself over the fact that if he’d been stronger, he could have killed Tosen and prevented all of this from ever happening. But this was even worse— this was entirely his fault. He let out a sharp exhale, his mind reeling. He _did_ this to him. Every time Shuuhei cried or had a nightmare, it was _his fault_.  
  
Kensei felt a little sick, and with a humorless chuckle he realized that this was probably how the kid felt all the time. He couldn’t even imagine, stewing at the bottom of a pit like this. He stood up, rubbing a hand across his face. He needed to sleep. With that, he stacked up the papers still on his desk and headed off to his room. He could torture himself about that shit later.

  
————————————————————-  
  
Shuuhei woke up to an insistent hand shoving at him, and instinctively rolled away from it. “Hm?” He asked, his eyes still closed, his face pressed into his pillow.  
  
“Kira’s sick. You have to come help me.” Rangiku was saying. Shuuhei groaned into his pillow, but rolled onto his back obligingly.  
  
“Whas’ wrong?”  
  
“He had too much to drink.” Rangiku said guiltily.  
  
“Sounds more like your problem then mine.”  
  
“But he’s heavy.”  
  
“That’s crap. You’re stronger then I am.” Shuuhei complained, but sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Who’s with him now?”  
  
“Um. Hurry up.” Rangiku said, standing up and tossing Shuuhei’s uniform at him. He rolled his eyes, but began pulling his clothes on, not caring that Rangiku was in the room. They’d seen each other stripped down more then enough times emotionally, at this point nudity was a moot point.  
  
“So I take it you found another drinking buddy?”  
  
“Yeah. Renji was being an ass, so I made Kira drink with me.”  
  
“What’d Renji do?”  
  
“Nothing.” Rangiku said, in a way that suggested it was definitely something. “He was just drunk.”  
  
Alright then. Clearly she wasn’t interested in talking about it. Shuuhei quickly tied his obi. “Let’s go.” He stepped out of his door, looking behind him to make sure Rangiku was following him before running straight into his Captain. He jerked back immediately with a violent twitch. “Ah. Sorry, taicho.” He said, schooling his face into calm.  
  
“Where you goin’ in such a hurry?” He asked, ignoring Shuuhei’s violent reaction.  
  
“Kira-fukutaicho’s sick.” He said.  
  
Kensei snorted, his eyes flicking to Rangiku. “You should be more careful about how much you all have to drink.” He said idly. “One o’ these days you’re gonna do somethin’ really stupid.” Nevermind how much he disliked them all using drinking as a crutch.  
  
“With all due respect, taicho, everything we do while drunk is pretty stupid.” Shuuhei said dully. Kensei let out a bark of laughter.  
  
“Go take care of your friend.” He said, waving the two of them away. Rangiku glanced back at the Captain as they walked away, and he met her gaze, holding it steadily. She finally tore her gaze away, looking at Shuuhei.  
  
“Your Captain is weird.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“His reiatsu is weird. And he’s weird.”  
  
“He’s half-hollow. Of course his reiatsu is weird.”  
  
“I dunno. There’s just something about him. C’mon, Izuru has already been alone way too long.”  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei moved into flashstep, and Rangiku followed suit. She lead him to the 10th division, and they walked through the winding hallways of the barracks until they ended up at her room. It was empty, and Shuuhei shot Rangiku a confused look until he heard a quiet moan from the bathroom. Of course.  
  
“Hey, ‘Zuru.” Shuuhei walked into the bathroom, not particularly surprised by his friend’s appearance. His hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His uniform was rumpled in a way that suggested that he hadn’t changed it since the night before. Shuuhei walked over and knelt down beside him. “Feeling alright?”  
  
“Shuu.” Izuru groaned. “Shuu, I think I’m dying.”  
  
“Yeah, probably.” Shuuhei ran a hand down his friends back. “Do you want me to hold back your hair?”  
  
“Yeah.” Izuru jerked suddenly, and Shuuhei quickly pulled Izuru’s bangs out of his face as he vomited into the toilet. His hand moved down slightly to rest his cool hand against Izuru’s heated forehead. Izuru spat into the toilet, getting the last of it out of his mouth. “S’fine.” He murmured, pulling away from Shuuhei and resting his forehead against the toilet seat.  
  
“That’s gross.” Shuuhei said, nudging Izuru. “And it can’t be comfortable.”  
  
“Dunno if I’m gonna vomit again.” He said idly.  
  
“Alright.” Shuuhei sat back, leaning against the wall and keeping an eye on his friend. “Rangiku, can you get some water?”  
  
“Yeah.” He could hear her rustling around in her room.  
  
“You still drunk?” Shuuhei asked.  
  
“Probably?” Izuru gave a shrug. “I don’t remember sleeping.”  
  
“You did.” Rangiku sang as she came into the bathroom, and Izuru cringed at the sudden loud noise. “Sorry.” She handed the glass to Shuuhei before sitting down on the bathroom floor across from him.  
  
“Want some water?” Shuuhei offered. Izuru gave a groan, but accepted the glass with a shaking hand. He took a few sips before handing it back to Shuuhei.  
  
“Shuu’s taicho doesn’t like us drinking so much.” Rangiku said with a smirk. Izuru let out a humorless laugh.  
  
“Maybe he’s got the right idea.” He said with a small grin. “Besides, yours doesn’t either.”  
  
“Well that’s just because we make too much noise.” Rangiku said reasonably, grinning at Shuuhei. He felt a sudden warmth, sitting in the bathroom with two of his closest friends, talking and joking. Of course, Izuru had his head in a toilet, and they were all half-crazy and broken, but he loved them all the same. Renji should have been there, he thought idly, but dismissed the thought. Renji was still theirs, but he could tell their collective descent into mania made him uncomfortable.  
  
He missed him all the same, though. Renji could definitely aware of how their drinking sessions had significantly changed in tone. They were no longer to celebrate the end of the week, or to unwind after a day of work. Now they were to stave off the demons. They made the agony more bearable.  
  
It was strange, how they’d all fallen together. Rangiku came later, after Shuuhei’s crush had melted into a close friendship, helped along by a shared hatred of paperwork and a mutual love for drinking. He’d always been close with Izuru and Renji. Ever since the incident with the hollows in the living world, they’d become friends. Their constant training together solidified the friendship into a firm bond, and Shuuhei couldn’t deny his pride when two of his closest friends became Lieutenants alongside him. They both still called him senpai occasionally, which he couldn’t help but find a degree of humor in. They’d all become equals, but they’d still acknowledge his seniority.  
  
And now… and now, they were his superiors. He knew he’d briefly been considered as Captain for the 9th after Tosen left— Komamura had told him as much, but he was disqualified for lack of a bankai. Shuuhei felt a little relief at hearing that. While he had been acting Captain, that was very different then wearing the haori. He had big shoes and broad shoulders to fill, and he was certain that he’d never been able to. The Captains…they’d been untouchable. Godly, almost. He’d idolized them both, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t equate himself with them in his mind. He was useless, and scared, and constantly unsure. The Captains were fearless and always knew exactly what to do.  
  
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Rangiku asked, looking up from where she was rubbing Izuru’s back.  
  
“Hm?” Shuuhei glanced up, pulling himself from his thoughts. “Nothing. How’re you feeling, ‘Zuru?”  
  
“You know… you know that movie we watched in the Living World, where a guy shoves his hand into another guys chest and pulls out his heart, and then lowers him into a pit of lava?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Izuru confirmed with a deadpan look.  
  
Rangiku laughed, and Shuuhei’s chest ached with how good it felt just to be near them. To just sit with his friends and be happy was a concept that had become so foreign. He was well aware of how long it had been, so long that he was wildly thankful for something he’d had constantly before the Captains betrayed them all. He felt his eyes dampen a little bit at the thought. It was one thing to cry from sadness, but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d cried out of pure joy. The feeling was desperately, achingly, bittersweet.  
  
“Shuu, you okay?” Izuru was asking, and the concern in his eyes made Shuuhei feel like his heart would burst. He was surrounded by people that cared about him, that wanted him to be happy. Shuuhei nodded rapidly, blinking the tears from his eyes.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Rangiku asked, scooting closer.  
  
“I’m just…” He shrugged, laughing a little bit. “I’m really, really happy.” He said, giving another laugh that quickly dissolved into quiet tears. He felt a cool hand slide into his, and Izuru was smiling at him from where he had his head resting against the toilet seat, squeezing lightly at his hand.  
  
“That’s really good, Shuuhei.” Rangiku murmured, and a sob escaped him at the gentleness in her voice. “We want you to be happy.”  
  
He nodded rapidly, covering his face with his free hand as his shoulders shook. “I didn’t know seeing me vomit would bring you so much joy.” Izuru said dryly, and Shuuhei gave a wet laugh. Rangiku snorted, moving her hand back over his back. “I’m gonna go for it again, if you want to open your eyes.”  
  
“Really?” Rangiku asked, suddenly alarmed.  
  
“Yeah, really. Hold back my hair.”  
  
“Aw, crap. Alright.” Rangiku moved to hold back the gold strands, and there was a sickening noise as Izuru threw up again. For some reason that had Shuuhei laughing again through his tears, and Izuru started cursing at him so colorfully even the Eleventh would be shocked. Rangiku was giggling as she held back Izuru’s bangs, occasionally running a hand over his back.  
  
“Keep going, Izuru. If you make him laugh hard enough maybe he’ll get sick too.”  
  
“God, I fucking hope.” Izuru said darkly. “I’ll get you next time, Shuu, I swear to god.” He threatened, although his voice was full of humor, glad to just see Shuuhei happy again.  
  
“I hate you guys.” Shuuhei said with a grin, wiping the tears from his cheeks.  
  
“Fuck off, Shuu.” Izuru said, his grip on Shuuhei’s hand tightening slightly.  
  
“Yeah, you too.”  
  
Rangiku just smiled at both of them. “See? It’s good that I keep getting you too drunk for your own good.”  
  
“No it’s not.” They said in unison, and Rangiku just snorted with laughter.  
  
“Alright.” She said, her laughter fading into a gentle smile as she continued to rub Izuru’s back. The three of them sat together in the cramped bathroom, talking and laughing and occasionally holding back Izuru’s hair or bringing him water. They might all be broken and hurt, but ultimately, Shuuhei was thankful that at the very least they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie they're talking about is indiana jones: temple of doom. also i figure rangiku is stronger then shuuhei-- they're both pretty powerful, but she's a badass mofo and i love her is what i'm saying here. also she's older and has been in the gotei waaay longer, if you assume she got there a little after Gin did. 
> 
> also haha i'm so sorry everybody keeps throwing up in this fic but it's not my fault they're all raging alcoholics
> 
> Anyways, that was like, dangerously cheesy. I'm so sorry. I'm such a big fan of their friend group, I feel like after all the crap they've all been through they've become like 10x more supportive of each other. As always, let me know what you think, reviews are love, blah blah blah. Thank you guys so much for reading. <3


	11. Chapter 11

They had crossed a line.  
  
Shuuhei knew it. Kensei definitely knew it. There had been something deeply intimate about the way he knelt, pressing his face to his Captain’s abdomen where the twin to his tattoo was. The way Kensei had run his hands through his soft hair, quiet and alone in the dark office. It didn’t feel quite real, like it was separated from the rest of the world.  
  
And so they didn’t talk about it. They ignored it, and carefully stepped back into their roles of Captain and division member, and made sure to not stand too close to each other or spend too much time alone. They had already crossed so many lines. Kensei knew he was no longer just his Captain, after comforting him and holding him and talking him through more panic attacks and crying jags than he could count.  
  
There was something different and strange between them, a little fucked-up and sick. Shuuhei was practically drowning in all the darkness inside him, and Kensei was wading in in an attempt to drag him out. And Kensei… Kensei needed him, was desperate for a concrete reminder that he had done some good in his life, however small. That on that evening where he’d lost so much it had been at least a little worth it, even if the child he’d saved had been absolutely destroyed because of Kensei’s own inability to truly save him.  
  
They had fallen together in their constant torture of themselves, desperately trying to make things better. In Shuuhei, Kensei had found justification and trust. In Kensei, Shuuhei found the approval that Tosen had so constantly denied from him.  
  
“You’re codependent.” Shinji said, his constantly-wide grin curling into a scowl. “It’s fuckin’ weird.” He tipped back a bit more sake. They were sitting in Shinji’s Captain’s rooms, drinking sake out of some uselessly small cups. They suited Shinji just fine, but Kensei’s massive hands dwarfed them, making his drink look ridiculous in his hands.  
  
“That’s bullshit.” Kensei said gruffly. “The kid can do whatever he wants.” He drained the small cup and poured himself another.  
  
“I’m tellin’ you, that kid is gonna fuckin’ destroy you.”  
  
“I can take care of myself.”  
  
“See, I’m not sure you can. I see the way you look at him. The whole damn Seireitei does.”  
  
“And how’re you sayin’ I look at him?”  
  
“A mixture between a mama bear and a lion lookin’ at it’s prey.”  
  
“The hell is that supposed to mean?!”  
  
“Like you can’t decide whether you want to protect him or eat him whole.” Shinji said cooly.  
  
“That’s…” Kensei thought for a moment. “That’s fuckin’ stupid.”  
  
“I’m just callin’ it how I see it.” He took another careful drink, his eyes trained on Kensei.  
  
“Well you’re seein’ it wrong.”  
  
“Then please enlighten me. Exactly what is going on with the two of you?” He asked, his mouth curling into a smirk.  
  
“He’s one of my subordinates that’s going through a rough patch.”  
  
“Bullshit. If he were just another subordinate, you woulda told him to man up by now. But all you’re doin’ is coddling him.”  
  
“You don’t know half of what he’s been dealing with.” Kensei snarled.  
  
“I don’t need to.” Shinji narrowed his eyes. “I know you very well, Kensei.”  
  
“The hell are you implying?”  
  
“I’m saying that I know why you need him so much.”  
  
Kensei scoffed at that. “And why’s that?”  
  
“Because he’s the reason why that night wasn’t all for nothing.” Shinji hissed.  
  
“That doesn’t mean I need him.”  
  
“Yes, you do.” Shinji said, pushing his sake aside, his words dripping with venom. “You still haven’t let go of any of it, and so you’re wandering around trying to fucking justify it. It can’t be justified, Kensei. There’s no fucking reason for what happened to us. We were hollowfied for nothing. And if I could go back and let that kid die so all of us could be normal again, I would.”  
  
The low table was knocked aside as Kensei flew at Shinji with a snarl, pinning him to the wall, his hands on his throat. His eyes briefly flickered to his hollow’s black-and-yellow, and Shinji smirked. “Still no control.” He chided. Kensei tensed, fighting back the hollow until his eyes finally cleared. “He’s your weak spot.”  
  
“At least I have one.” Kensei snarled, seething with rage. “You’re just cold.”  
  
Shinji chuckled. “Oh, I have a weak spot. It’s you. It’s Hiyori and Lisa and Rose. It’s Love and Hachi and Mashiro. Your fucking family. Not some idiot kid from Rukongai.”  
  
“Is that what this is, huh?” Kensei spat at him, shoving him harder against the wall. “You’re jealous?”  
  
Shinji grinned, his eyes lighting up. “That’s fucking rich, Kensei. You think I care? I’m just trying to look out for my own. That’s my job. What the hell have you been doing? Obsessing over some kid?”  
  
“I’m trying to help him.”  
  
“Hate to break it to you, but that kid is way beyond help.” Shinji said, wearing the same fucking irritating grin. “He’s fuckin’ insane, but best of luck to the both of ya.” He was clearly goading him, enjoying their fight for whatever reason.  
  
“Fuck you!” Kensei snarled.  
  
“That’s it. See how emotional this gets you? I can talk shit about you all day, but the second I say one bad word about that kid, you lose your mind.” He laughed gleefully. “You’ve really done it this time, buddy.” Kensei’s already hard grip unconsciously tightened, his eyes flashing back to yellow. Shinji’s grin dropped, his eyes narrowing as he took in a shallow breath. “What, are you going to kill me?” He murmured. “Hollow.” He spat at him.  
  
Kensei jerked backwards at the implication, letting his friend drop. His eyes melted from the pale yellow-and-black back to their usual gold. There were red marks on Shinji’s throat, and he had no doubt they would blossom into a pale purple by the next morning. “Why?” He demanded, his voice strangled with rage. Why was he goading him on, fucking teasing him when he could see how it was driving him up the wall. This wasn’t the innocent teasing they did in the warehouse, this was done with the intention of hurting him, and it was clearly working.  
  
Shinji massaged his throat, narrowing his eyes at Kensei. “Because you need to realize how attached you are to this kid. Because this—“ He gestured around his rooms. “All of this, can be pulled away at any second. Including him.”  
  
“I know that.” Kensei said, shaking with the effort of keeping his hollow repressed.  
  
“You’re gettin’ pretty attached for someone that knows that.” Shinji said idly, eyeing Kensei. “When was the last time you released your hollow?”  
  
“It’s been a while.” Kensei said gruffly.  
  
“What, you can’t train with the kid?”    
  
“Christ, Shinji, I don’t want to kill him.”  
  
“You’re going to lose control if you keep repressing it.”  
  
“You think I don’t know that?!” Kensei demanded, his eyes flashing back to yellow briefly.  
  
“Let’s fight.” Shinji said, reaching for his zanpaktou.  
  
“That might not be a good idea right now.”  
  
“I can handle you, Kensei.”  
  
“Yeah, but I can’t handle myself.” His teeth were gritted, still actively pushing on his hollow. “Fuck, he’s— he’s too close to the surface.”  
  
“If you lose control, I’ll bind you.”  
  
“Yeah, you remember what happened last time?” A wild laugh escaped Kensei’s throat. “Get— get Mashiro. So there’s two of you.”  
  
Shinji nodded, cocked his head as he searched for the unique taste of Mashiro’s reiatsu. “She’s close.” He licked his lips. “She’s with Shuuhei.”  
  
“I don’t want him here.” He said automatically. He didn’t want to hurt him, but even further, he didn’t want Shuuhei to see him lose control. He didn’t want to scare him.  
  
“You sure?” Shinji asked, with a slight tilt of his head. “He’s going to see it eventually.”  
  
“Not like this.” Kensei’s breathing was heavier, and Shinji could hear the edge to his voice that signified his hollow was clawing it’s way out, the pressure to it. Fuck, he could feel it too, his own hollow responding to the howling of the one trying to tear it’s way out of Kensei.  
  
“I’ll be right back.” Shinji said, before flashstepping away, heading into the cool night. Mashiro and Shuuhei were walking back to the 9th, chatting idly. Her high-pitched voice carried, and even without sensing her reiatsu Shinji would have been able to locate them.  
  
“Mashiro.” He said, stopping in front of the two of them. Shuuhei looked surprised, but Mashiro immediately picked up on the urgency in his voice.  
  
“What?” She asked, stopping her monologue to Shuuhei on why candy was, despite what Kensei may say, an acceptable meal.  
  
“Kensei’s hollow is comin’ out to play.” Shinji’s mouth tilted into a humorless smile. “Figured you might want in on it.”  
  
“Can’t you do that yourself?”  
  
“Not when he’s like this.” Shinji said. Mashiro stopped walking, her eyes widening slightly. Shinji nodded. Shuuhei opened his mouth as though to say something, but Shinji silenced him with a wave. “Nah, kid. Kensei doesn’t want you to see.” He said by way of explanation before dragging Mashiro back towards the 5th.  
  
Shuuhei watched them disappear into the darkness. The whole interaction had been strange and surreal, and but for the memory of them flashstepping away he wasn’t sure that it had even happened. He stared into the blackness for a moment, before finally heading back towards his Division.  


* * *

  
  
Shuuhei glanced up from his paperwork as his Captain walked into the office, bruised and muddy, his clothing torn. His haori was the only clean thing on him, and Shuuhei realized he must have taken it off before fighting Mashiro and Shinji. “Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes immediately running down his body, looking for obvious injuries. There were a few cuts and lacerations, and part of his uniform looked muddled with blood. There was a particularly nasty-looking cut on the back of his shoulder, and Shuuhei’s hands twitched with the need to fix it.  
  
“I’m fine.” Kensei said, and he did seem significantly less on-edge. His shoulders were more relaxed, and the tenseness that had been constant in his muscles was gone. He didn’t even comment on the fact that Shuuhei was sitting at Mashiro’s desk, doing her paperwork. At least some of it would get done.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“My hollow.” Kensei said idly, rummaging through his desk drawers and tugging out a first-aid kit. He purposely didn’t give any more information, and Shuuhei got the feeling that he was unwilling to talk about it anymore. “You any good with a needle?” He asked, sitting down in his chair.  
  
“Yeah.” Shuuhei’s stitched up plenty of people, was perfectly used to it by now. He even had a mottled scar on his left thigh that was his own handiwork. “Why don’t you just go to the 4th?” He asked, standing up to rummage through the first-aid kit himself.  
  
Kensei snorted at that. “S’not that bad, I just need to stop the bleeding.”  
  
“It’ll scar.” Shuuhei pointed out, standing behind his chair and gently running an alcohol wipe over the cut to clean up the worst of the blood and dirt caked over the wound. Kensei hissed at the sting, but glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that bothers you.” He eyed Shuuhei’s scars, and Shuuhei unconsciously ducked his head, hiding the deep gouges that ran down his face. Kensei looked away.  
  
“I kept them on purpose.” Shuuhei finally said stiffly, carefully threading the needle.  
  
“Can you see out of that eye?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Does it fuck with your depth perception?”  
  
“I got used to it pretty quickly. I had to with the way Kazeshini is.” Shuuhei leaned forward. “Stay still.” He ordered, before pushing in the needle. Kensei tensed, but followed the instructions. He didn’t mind the pain so much as the unnatural push-pull of metal and thread running through his skin. Shuuhei placed a cool hand against the wound to prevent excessive tugging, ignoring the way the blood oozed out to stain his fingertips. Here they were again, too close, too intimate, and Shuuhei focused on the thread to keep himself from thinking about how warm Kensei was under his palm.  
  
“How did it happen?” Kensei asked, trying to avoid focusing on the stitches. Shuuhei stilled for a moment, his grip on the needle briefly loosening before shaking it off and pushing the needle through flesh again.  
  
“I failed on a mission when I was in the Academy.” Shuuhei said simply. “People died.” Kensei didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sat quietly as Shuuhei continued to sew him up. He thought the kid was done, but then Shuuhei opened his mouth to speak again, this time more quietly. “Aizen and Gin eventually rescued us.”  
  
Kensei couldn’t help himself. “…Do you think they planned it?”  
  
“…Yes.” Shuuhei said very quietly, as though he were ashamed of himself for suspecting it. His hand stilled.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Shuuhei said, returning to sewing once again. Kensei gritted his teeth through the last few stitches before Shuuhei tied it off, carefully twisting the thread around his fingers so he could break it. The thread snapped, leaving purple rings from biting into the skin where he’d wrapped it. He threw away the bloodied needle and the extra thread. “Done.”  
  
“Thanks.” Kensei leaned back in his chair. Shuuhei went for the first-aid kit again, this time to grab an alcohol wipe. He returned to his seat, and began carefully cleaning off Kensei’s blood that had drooled onto his fingers. He tried not to focus on the last time a Captain’s blood had stained his hands, doing his best to disassociate himself from the sensation altogether. Kensei watched with deep golden eyes as he cleaned off the mess of crimson, his face unreadable. Shuuhei glanced up, balking at the look on his Captain’s face.  
  
“Taicho?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re staring.” Shuuhei said, pausing in his cleaning. There was still bits of his Captain’s blood under his fingernails, congealing on his palm. He actively ignored the sensation of the blood drying on his skin, pushing it away until his body didn’t feel like it was quite his. It was a similar technique to what he used in battle— if he disassociated from his body completely, he could fight longer and ignore the ache of his wounds and the burn of air in his lungs. When Captain Unohana had asked about his endurance, she’d been silently horrified at his answer and told him to never do it again.  
  
He wasn’t a particularly good listener.  
  
“Sorry. Hollow.” Kensei said with a shrug, but didn’t avert his gaze. There was something dark in him as he watched Shuuhei carefully try to get the blood from where it was flaking underneath his nails.  
  
“Your hollow likes blood?”  
  
“Yeah. You smell like prey.” He licked his lips, and Shuuhei’s eyes caught the movement, following where his tongue slipped back into his mouth. His gaze lingered there before jumping back up to his Captain’s eyes, then down to his hands to continue cleaning. There was no way his Captain hadn’t noticed, but Kensei didn’t even seem to mind, was too focused on the blood staining his subordinates palms.  
  
“Am I prey?” He asked tentatively when Kensei continued to stare.  
  
“In a sense.” Kensei’s dark eyes flicked from his hands up to Shuuhei’s face, tracing the lines of the scars with his eyes. Shuuhei shifted uncomfortably. People had undressed him with their eyes before, but the way Kensei was looking at him was much more base and somehow more vulgar. Shuuhei shivered.  
  
The movement seemed to snap Kensei out of his revere, and he blinked, his pupils quickly shrinking back to their normal, non-blown state. “Sorry.” He rubbed at his face. “Sorry, it’s a little close to the surface tonight.”  
  
“Does it have a name?” Shuuhei asked. Kensei snorted, and Shuuhei immediately felt stupid for even asking.  
  
“Hollow’s ain’t zanpaktous, kid.” His mouth curled into a humorless smile. “They’re wild animals. They just run on instinct.”  
  
“Ah.” He nodded slowly, his eyes darting back down to his hands to continue cleaning them. He was aware of Kensei’s eyes on him, feeling a gentle prickling at the back of his neck that told him he was being watched. He didn’t really blame Rangiku for being uncomfortable around Kensei— the hollow gave his reiatsu an uncomfortable taste, like something that shouldn’t quite be. It had made his skin crawl when he’d first felt it, unaware of where it was coming from. It was a bone-deep wrongness that he was still trying to get used to. It felt similar to Arrancar, but even they hadn’t felt quite as taboo, quite as dark and sick and strange.  
  
“Are you scared of it?” He heard Kensei ask, and he looked up at his Captain. He was watching Shuuhei intently.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Shuuhei just gave a half-shrug, and finished cleaning out the blood from under his nails. He tossed the bloodstained wipe in the trash.  
  
“A few weeks ago, that would’ve freaked you out.” Kensei commented, watching as Shuuhei wiped his hands his hakama.  
  
“I just don’t think about it.”  
  
“Huh.” Kensei leaned back in his chair. “Are you doin’ better?”  
  
Shuuhei shrugged. He didn’t really want to talk about it. Then again, he never really wanted to talk about it. It was painful enough to iterate over in his head— vocalizing it just made it that much worse. He knew he was pulling into himself more. He wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing. Kensei seemed to pick up on it, because he stopped looking at Shuuhei like he expected an answer.  
  
“I don't mind having you in the office, kid.” He said gruffly, pulling a stack of paper towards him. He grimaced as the motion tugged on his freshly-stitched shoulder. “But you don’t have to do Mashiro’s paperwork.”  
  
“If I don’t do it, then it doesn’t get done.” His pen quietly scratched against the paperwork. The office was quiet and warm, and he could hear the soft sound of crickets outside. It lulled him into a sort of calm he hadn’t experienced in a while, losing himself in the rhythm of his work. Kensei’s reiatsu swam through the room like a warm blanket. He yawned, allowing his pen to drop to his desk. “I’m going to go to bed.”  
  
“Yeah. Sleep well.” His eyes flicked over to Shuuhei, watching him as he stood, as he stretched, as he headed for the door.  
  
“Goodnight, Taicho.”  
  
“…Goodnight, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was partway done for a while, so I finished it up!


End file.
